


a supercut of us

by piginawig



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Richie Tozier, Fluff, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor background benverly and stanpat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:53:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 26,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26344426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piginawig/pseuds/piginawig
Summary: A collection of drabbles about Eddie Kaspbrak and Richie Tozier from my Tumblr, bookeddie
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	1. The way you said I love you: With a hoarse voice, under the blankets

**Author's Note:**

> Moving some drabbles from my tumblr over here for ease of reading. I will include the rating and any warning at the beginning of each drabble. 
> 
> This is rated T for language

“Uh, Eds?”

Eddie coughed, grimacing at the pounding in his head. He could hear Richie’s voice in the room but it sounded like he was underwater. He pulled the comforter down so his face wasn’t covered but kept it up to his neck to fight the shivers racking his body.

Richie winced when he caught a glimpse of Eddie’s face. He was pale except for his nose which was bright red, and his lips which were clearly chapped. His hair was sticking up everywhere, matted with sweat. His eyes were hooded, bleary, and he was surrounded by tissues. Richie wanted to hug him, but then Eddie coughed again and he thought better of it.

“I brought the NyQuil, babe,” he said, stepping further into their bedroom. Eddie sniffed in response. “I know it’s gross but it’ll help.”

Eddie groaned and it turned into a cough, and Richie felt his heart clench at the sight of tears forming in the corner of his boyfriend’s eyes as his chest heaved. He stepped closer to the bed, placed the small cup filled with purple liquid on the nightstand, and grabbed the hem of the comforter, pulling it down a bit.

“Noooo,” Eddie whined, tugging at the blanket. His face was pulled into a pout, and normally Richie was immune to that face but he could see the actual pain behind it and he found it hard to fight.

“I’m sorry, baby, you just gotta sit up for a minute to take this,” he said, taking Eddie’s hand and pulling up into a sitting position. When Eddie sat up, he got a waft of stale air and wrinkled his nose. “And you should move to the couch so I can wash these sheets, it stinks in here.”

Eddie frowned. “I don’t stink.”

“You kinda do, babe,” Richie said with a small grin, and Eddie huffed, then seemed to accept his fate.

“Actually,” he said, biting his lip. He blew his nose into a tissue before he spoke again. “I kind of want a shower. Will you help me?”

“Course,” Richie said, helping as Eddie untangled himself from the blankets. He could see the way his body was shaking with the chill, so he rushed them into the bathroom and turned the shower on hot before turning back to Eddie, who was seated on the closed toilet seat. His elbows were on his knees and his head was resting in his hands. He looked like the picture of miserable.

Richie quickly helped him undress and undressed himself as well, stepping them both into the tub. Ignoring himself, he grabbed the shampoo and worked it into Eddie’s hair and then rinsed the soap from his head. 

“Which loofah you want, babe?” Richie asked, pointing to the two that were hanging on their shower caddy. Eddie swore there was a difference between them, but Richie had no idea what it was. 

“The blue one, please,” Eddie said, then threw his hands up to cover his face and sneezed. He grimaced at the snot that had ended up on his hands and let the water rinse it away. He fucking hated being sick. Nothing was more disgusting. 

“Bless you,” Richie said absentmindedly as he soaped up the loofah, ignoring Eddie’s horror at having snot on his hands. Finally, Eddie let his head drop on Richie’s shoulder as Richie washed the sweat from his sick body. He finished quickly and stepped Eddie beneath the shower stream, wrapping his arms around his slight shoulders and holding him. He could feel that Eddie’s body wasn’t shaking anymore but he knew as soon as he turned the water off the chills would be back, so they stood there for a few minutes, Richie’s hands running up and down Eddie’s wet back. After a bit, he noticed the water starting to lose its heat. “You ready to get out?”

“No,” Eddie said with a sigh, “but I’m tired, so we should.”

Richie nodded, placed a kiss on Eddie’s wet cheek, and reached behind him to turn the shower off. He pulled back the curtain and grabbed a towel from the rack, quickly wrapping it around Eddie’s already shivering body.

The two made quick work of getting dried and dressed, and Eddie sat in the recliner in the living room while Richie grabbed a clean comforter and a few extra pillows from the linen closet. He set up a little nest for Eddie on the couch, then went to strip their bed while Eddie cocooned himself.

Once the dirty sheets and comforter were in the washing machine, Richie made his way back to the living room with the cup of NyQuil and a glass of water.

Eddie’s eyes were already closed, but the rough way his body trembled told Richie he was still awake.

“Here, Eds,” he said, holding the cup up to Eddie’s chapped lips. Eddie whined, but let Richie pour the medicine in his mouth. He winced as he swallowed, throwing an arm out of his blanket and grabbing the water to chase the taste away. Richie took the glass after Eddie had taken a few good gulps, then helped him get situated again. “Gonna sleep for a while?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said softly, sniffling some more. “Thanks for taking care of me, Rich.”

Richie grinned guiltily. “Well, considering I’m the one that got you sick in the first place…”

Eddie let out a small laugh and nodded. “That’s true, this is your fault.”

“Besides, this is practice for marriage. The whole sickness and health thing. Gotta learn now.”

Eddie went into an immediate coughing fit, eyes wide. Richie laughed. 

“Anyway, time for you to go to bed, Eds,” he said, leaning in and giving Eddie a kiss on the forehead, frowning at the heat. “Love you.”

Eddie, who had recovered from his coughing fit, smiled giddily and pulled the blanket up to his chin, sinking into the pillows. He closed his eyes, imagining himself twenty years from now, just as sick but _married_ , with the same man giving him NyQuil and helping him shower, and he sighed happily.

“Love you, too, Rich,” he said hoarsely, before falling asleep. 


	2. “fuck’s sake, what’s your problem?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rated T for language
> 
> this was written pre-chapter 2 and is essentially canon divergence where the losers never moved away from Derry

Eddie was seething. After a long ass day of listening to his mother nitpicking and nagging like he was fucking ten years old, he just wanted to hang out with his friends and relax, but apparently that wasn’t going to happen.

“Hey Eds,” Richie called to him. Eddie took a deep breath to calm himself. It didn’t work. He sunk deeper into the couch in Bill’s living room, hoping he could somehow just melt into the fabric and disappear and never listen to one of Richie’s stupid comments ever again. Instead, he felt a body plop onto the couch next to him, followed by a loud voice in his ear. “You seem mighty feisty today, little one!”

“Shut up, Richie,” Eddie said lowly. “I’m serious, I’m not in the mood.”

“That’s not what your mom said last ni-“

“Richie!”

Richie just grinned, seemingly unaware that Eddie was losing his fucking mind.

“You’re so cute when you’re mad, Eds,” he said, and reached over. Eddie knew he was swooping in to pinch his cheek, and he jumped up angrily.

“Don’t pinch my cheeks, Richie!” He yelled. He was aware the other Losers were all looking at him, but he didn’t care anymore. He was upset. “And don’t call me Eds! I’ve been telling you for the past eight years to not fucking call me that! And don’t call me cute either, I’m not fucking cute!”

Richie’s eyes were wide, and no one spoke.

“I’m leaving,” Eddie said, storming out of the room. He went to the front door and angrily slammed it behind him. He groaned when he heard someone following him. He glanced back, clenching his hands into fists when he saw it was Richie. “Leave me alone, Richie!”

“Fucks sake, what’s your problem?” Richie asked, genuinely confused. “I haven’t done anything that I don’t always do.”

“Exactly!” Eddie screamed. “You always fucking do it! Even when I ask you not to, you still do it!”

“I- okay, I’ll stop, I’m sorry-“

“It’s not enough! The damage is done, okay? You call me fucking _Eds_ and _cute_ and pinch my cheek like I’m a fucking baby, like I’m a little kid and weak and helpless, just like my mom treats me. And I’m not!”

“I _know_ you’re not, I’m sorry-“

“I’m not a kid,” Eddie ranted on, ignoring Richie. “I’m eighteen years old, I’m going to college soon, and I’m an adult! I’m a grown man, I’m not a baby, and I’m not cute, I don’t want you to think I’m cute –“

He cut himself off, biting his lip like he’d said too much. Richie just stared at him, unsure for the first time in his life of what to say.

“I’m gonna go,” Eddie said finally.

“Eddie, don’t go,” Richie said frowning. “I didn’t know you felt that way or I never would have-“

“Really?” Eddie said. “Because I asked you over and over to stop and you never did. Did you not think there was a reason I asked you to stop?”

Richie opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. Eddie rolled his eyes, turned around, and walked home alone.

*

Eddie glanced up when he heard a knocking on his window, and stood up, ready to send Richie away. However, he did a double take when he saw red hair through the window, and he hurried instead to help Beverly inside.

“How does Richie do that all the time?” She asked, once she was settled on her feet. “I thought I was going to die like, four different times.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Is there a reason you’re here, Bev?”

“Damn,” she said, taking a seat at his desk chair. “Still in a bad mood, I see.”

“Well, it’s only been like an hour, so…”

“Care to explain what happened?”

“Not particularly,” Eddie said, sitting on his bed. Beverly gave him A Look. He sighed. “Fine. I’m pissed at Richie.”

“Yeah, we all gathered that much,” she said. “No one really understands why. Richie says that shit all the time.”

“That’s the point, Bev. I ask him to stop and he doesn’t. He’s never even asked _why_ I want him to stop.”

“I mean, I can see it from both sides,” Beverly said, and Eddie groaned. “Hear me out! Like, when you asked him to stop he totally should have listened. But also, it’s Richie. And we all know he acts like he does because he wants attention, and you’re his main target because he wants your attention most of all.”

Eddie opened his mouth to argue.

“No! Let me finish. Richie can be the most annoying person ever, but he’s also one of the best people ever. He does what he does because it gets a rise out of you and he doesn’t know how the fuck else to flirt with you.”

“He is not flirting with me,” Eddie argued.

Bev snorted. “Debatable. Besides, why do you hate it so much that he calls you that stuff? The rest of us all figured you liked it and were just playing along with him.”

Eddie shrugged. “I mean… It reminds me of my mom sometimes. When he calls me cute and pinches my cheeks. I don’t know how I feel about Eds, sometimes it feels like a little kid nickname but other times it feels like something… special, just for him. But…”

“That’s adorable as fuck,” Beverly stated. Eddie rolled his eyes. “But also, Richie doesn’t mean those things in a little kid kinda way. Everyone knows Richie has a crush on you, so I doubt when he calls you cute he means it like your mom does.”

“I already said, Richie does not have a crush on me. It’s not flirting.”

“Listen, as Richie’s best friend, I’m privy to certain information. You have a crush on him, right?”

Eddie bit his lip. “I mean –“

“You have a crush on him, _right_ ,” Beverly repeated. Eddie feebly nodded. “Okay. Well, I can assure you it’s mutual. And that he finds you much more than just cute. Especially when you wear your red shorts.”

Eddie gasped, and Beverly giggled.

“That’s the real problem, right? You don’t want him to think you’re cute, you want him to think you’re hot.”

Eddie blushed. “Not _hot_ in particular, just… not like a baby. And I hate his flirting thing, because it doesn’t feel real. Sometimes it feels like he’s making fun of me.”

“He’s not. Well, maybe a little,” Beverly conceded, “but it’s all in good fun. He’ll probably still do that stuff after you’ve started dating.”

“Oh my god, Bev, don’t say stuff like that,” Eddie said, cheeks flaming. “I haven’t even talked to him yet…”

“ _Well_ …”

“What?” Eddie asked, suddenly panicked.

“He might actually be waiting outside.”

Eddie gaped at her. Beverly grinned, pecked him on the cheek, and climbed back out the window. Eddie was still gaping a few minutes later when Richie climbed in.

“You’re gonna catch flies like that,” he said, and Eddie closed his mouth. “So are you going to accept my apology this time?”

Eddie flinched at the hurt in Richie’s voice.

“Only if you accept mine,” he mumbled, and smiled when Richie sat next to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“Cawse I will, deah,” Richie said.

Eddie scrunched his nose. “The fuck was that?”

“Work in progress,” Richie admitted, flushing. “Anyway, I am sorry for never listening when you tell me to stop doing that stuff. I guess I thought…”

He trailed off, and Eddie leaned into him. “That I was just playing along?”

“Yeah,” Richie agreed. “But if you really want me to stop, I will. I just didn’t understand why.”

“I, um,” he paused, closing his eyes. If Beverly was lying, he was going to kill her. “I don’t like it when you flirt with me the way you do-“ Richie’s arm suddenly fell from his shoulders, and Eddie looked up to see Richie’s face looking dejected. “No! I just mean – sometimes it feels like you’re making fun of me. Especially when you call me cute and pinch me cheeks ‘cause it’s like a baby, right? Like a little kid. Because I’m short, I guess, I don’t know? But it hurts because my mom treats me like I’m a baby, so then I think that you see me that way, too.”

“I don’t, Eddie,” Richie said honestly, and Eddie almost winced at how awkward ‘Eddie’ sounded coming out of Richie’s mouth. “I think you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met, and… I’ve been flirting with you since we were like, ten, and I guess I never changed my technique over the years, mostly because… I didn’t think you’d want me to flirt with you for real.”

“Do _you_ want to flirt with me for real?” Eddie asked quietly.

Richie was looking down, picking at a loose thread in his jeans. “I mean… Yeah…”

“Oh,” Eddie’s voice was barely more than a whisper. “You could try it now.”

Richie cleared his throat. “I um, I don’t really know what to say.”

“Trashmouth Tozier, speechless for the first time in his life?” Eddie teased, voice still quiet. “It’s okay, I don’t think I’d know how to respond anyway.”

“I don’t call you cute because I see you like a little kid,” Richie said suddenly, looking up at Eddie. “I call you cute because you _are_ cute. But you’re more than that, too. You’re fucking… You’re beautiful. And sexy. I – sometimes I can’t think right around you and so I say stupid shit because your nose scrunches up and your face gets extra adorable when I say stupid shit, and nothing feels better than when your attention is on me. I know that’s not like, really flirting, but I figured you should know.”

Eddie leaned forward so their noses were brushing, and he heard Richie’s breath hitch. “That was really good flirting, if you ask me.”

“Yeah?” Richie smiled. Eddie giggled, nodding. “Can I still call you Eds?”

Eddie rolled his eyes and pretended to think about it. “On one condition.”

“What’s that?” Richie asked, bringing his hand up to rest on Eddie’s shoulder.

“You have to kiss me.”

Richie’s jaw dropped. “What the _fuck_ , Eddie Spaghetti. Looks like you’re the one who can flirt in this relationship.”

“Oh my god! No Eddie Spaghetti! Off limits!”

“Can I kiss you for it?” Richie asked with a smirk.

“No!” Eddie squealed, but Richie was already leaning in. His smile faded when their lips touched, and for a moment they were both still.

Richie pulled back a little, their foreheads and noses still touching. “This okay?”

Eddie sighed softly. “Yeah,” he said. “And I love you.”

“Oh my god, you’re so much better at this boyfriend stuff than me,” Richie whined, even though he was smiling.

“Who said we’re boyfriends?” Eddie asked. Richie pressed another kiss to his lips. “Yeah, okay, we’re boyfriends.”

Richie laughed. “Good. And I love you, too.”

“Can you actually kiss me, now?” Eddie asked, so Richie did, bringing their lips together softly at first, timid, until Eddie brought a hand up to tangle in Richie’s hair. Richie gasped against Eddie’s lips, and Eddie deepened the kiss.

“Fuck,” Richie mumbled when they pulled back. He wrapped an arm across Eddie’s chest and pulled him down so that they were cuddled together on the bed. “I’m so fucking happy, Eds.”

Eddie smiled, letting his head fall on Richie’s chest and feeling butterflies when he realized how fast Richie’s heart was beating.

“Me too,” he agreed. “Thanks for coming after me even though I was an ass.”

Richie laughed, and Eddie felt the vibrations of it. He snuggled in deeper, sighing when Richie’s hand started combing through his hair. “Of course, Eds. Anytime.” 


	3. "you love me, right?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rated T for language

“You were so fucking drunk last night, Eds.”

Eddie groaned, dropping his head back on his pillow.

“Yes, Richie, I know,” he said irritably.

“I’m impressed, is all I’m saying,” Richie said, holding his hands up in some sort of surrender. “Like, I knew you would have a little for your twenty-first but damn. You really went for it. Hats off, man.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Is there a reason you’re in my room, other than to be annoying as fuck?”

Richie grinned. “Bev wanted me to make sure you were still alive.”

“Wow,” Eddie responded in monotone. “How nice of her to send you.”

“Yeah, well,” Richie shrugged, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Listen, are you gonna get out of bed at any point today? I think we should hang out tonight.”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why?”

“Can’t a dude just want to hang out with his best bro on his best bro’s birthday?”

“Stop calling me your bro,” Eddie said offhandedly. “Last time I hung out with you you kept handing me shots until I literally couldn’t see straight.”

Richie was quiet for a moment, then said, “Eds, be real, have you ever been able to see _straight_?”

Richie didn’t wait for Eddie’s reaction before he began cackling at his own joke. Eddie threw a pillow at him. “Get the fuck out, I’ll come see you in like an hour.”

Richie left the room and Eddie groaned again, not moving from his bed. He thought back to the small party his friends had thrown him for his birthday the night before, trying to recall anything embarrassing he’d done that Richie might be prepared to hold over his head, but he couldn’t think of anything. After a few more minutes, he pulled himself out of bed, unable to handle the gross feeling of lying in his own sweat after a night of drinking, and headed for the shower.

*

“Where’s Bev?” Eddie asked when he entered Richie and Beverly’s apartment. It was directly across the hall from the one he shared with Stan and Mike, and he half expected more of his friends to be waiting for him.

“She’s at Ben’s,” Richie responded from the couch, television remote in his hand even though the TV wasn’t on. “Just you and me tonight, Eds.”

“Oh.” Eddie walked to the couch, flopping himself down next to Richie. “How do you drink so often? I feel like literal ass.”

“Literal ass?” Richie repeated with a smirk. “I’ll show you literal ass –“

“I swear to God you’re still fourteen years old,” Eddie muttered, rolling his eyes. Richie just shrugged. “So what are we doing? It is my birthday, after all.”

“Why haven’t you kissed anybody?”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up, his mouth gaping open at the random question. Richie’s cheeks were flushed but he stared at Eddie, resolved.

“Um –“ Eddie squeaked, then cleared his throat. “ _What_?”

“You just –“ Richie finally broke the eye contact and looked down at his lap. He’d given up his Hawaiian shirts years before but now seemed only able to wear black jeans and different brightly colored t-shirts. Today’s was green. He shoved his glasses back up his nose as they slipped, and muttered quietly, “You said some stuff last night.”

Eddie’s throat felt tight. Suddenly his heart was pounding in his chest, and he thought about all the stupid fucking things he could’ve possibly said to Richie while intoxicated.

Richie didn’t seem like he was going to continue, like he expected Eddie to magically remember what he’d said when he was blackout drunk, so Eddie swallowed the lump in his throat and asked, “What did I say?”

“You said you’d never kissed anyone,” Richie answered softly, then bit his lip before adding, “and you said it was because… Because you love me, right?”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Eddie muttered. He could feel his cheeks heating up, and he had the sudden desire to jump up from the couch, run across the hall, and hide under his own bed. Probably forever.

“Right?” Richie prompted again. Eddie didn’t notice the slight desperation in Richie’s tone, too focused on his own embarrassment.

“I apparently already said it drunk, please don’t make me say it sober,” Eddie said quietly.

“Eds,” Richie whispered, “I wanna hear it sober.”

Eddie felt tears building up behind his eyelids and it was only then that he realized at some point he’d shut his eyes.

“Rich-“

“Eddie, please,” Richie pleaded, and Eddie gasped. Richie had moved closer; he could feel warm breath on his cheek, and then a large hand on the side of his face, fingers in his hair. He kept his eyes closed as Richie’s nose brushed against his, and felt the word on Richie’s lips. “ _Please_.”

He opened his eyes.

His breath hitched, and his eyes roamed the freckles on Richie’s cheeks, the glasses that were about to fall off Richie’s nose and onto his own. Unsure what to do with his own hands, he grabbed onto Richie’s wrist, holding his hand where it was against his face.

“I love you,” he whispered, and watched as Richie closed the rest of the distance between them.


	4. eddie and richie have a fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rated T for language, written pre chapter 2
> 
> Angst with an... optimistic ending

Eddie knew that he had a temper. He was a little chaotic, at best, and consistently on the verge of a breakdown, at worst. When his stress levels were high, he tended to go off the handle. He knew it was something he needed to work on, he just hadn’t actually worked on it yet. 

Richie was usually pretty good at calming him down. His first line of defense was an inappropriate joke; for the most part, Eddie would let out a frustrated, reluctant snort of amusement and he’d feel the anger seep out of him as Richie grinned at him. When that didn’t work, Richie moved on to soft touches, laced fingers and forehead kisses. Usually, Eddie would melt into Richie’s arms - and, when it was bad enough that the joke didn’t work in the first place, he’d eventually start crying the anger out.

When Eddie yanked away from Richie, when his jokes and his touches didn’t work, that was when Richie would calmly ask, “what do you need me to do?”, and Eddie would tell him, “just let me be angry.” The few times Eddie had been that angry (when he came out to his mom and she tried to convince him he was sick, when some homophobe on the street yelled out a slur at he and Richie while they were on their anniversary date, when the manager of his first apartment kicked him out because he found out he had a boyfriend staying with him) he’d just needed to yell it out, to cry and scream and stomp until his energy was out and he collapsed into Richie’s arms.

When the two of them fought, they usually sniped at each other until Richie broke the tension with a stupid comment, and Eddie would roll his eyes and say something sarcastic, and they’d apologize and move on. After six years together, they’d never had an argument that lasted more than an hour, because they both knew exactly what to say to the other to break down their walls. 

Eddie had never been genuinely angry toward Richie before. He didn’t think he _could_ be that angry at Richie, and after the fight was over he wasn’t even sure it was Richie that he was angry at - it felt more like he’d just taken out his stress on Richie. 

It had been a relatively normal night. Eddie had gotten to their shared apartment a bit later than usual - it was Friday, and that meant he had to stay a little late to fill out a log of all the rides he’d given that week. Normally, when he’d arrive home at about 7 pm, Richie would have been home for a good five hours. He had the morning slot at the radio station downtown and even though he had to be to work at 5 am, it meant he got to be home by 2 in the afternoon. He tended to nap when he got home, then tidy up the apartment if it needed and cook dinner or go grab something for them to eat.

Eddie hadn’t realized how much he’d come to expect Richie to do those things, so when he arrived home after a particularly shitty Friday, he found himself disappointed that there was no dinner, and that there were dishes in the sink, and that Richie was lounging on the couch, watching television.

“Hey, Eds,” he said, grinning tiredly at him. Eddie’s first thought was to wonder why the hell Richie looked tired, when he’d been home and clearly hadn’t done shit. “How was work?”

“It was shitty, thanks,” Eddie said moodily, kicking his shoes off. 

“Whoa,” Richie said, eyebrows raising. “Alright, sorry for asking.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “What’s for dinner?”

Richie sat up, annoyed. “I dunno, Eds, before you walked in and bit my fucking head off I was going to tell you that I’m tired and didn’t feel like cooking tonight -”

“ _You’re_ tired?” Eddie cut him off, voice shrill. “You’re home by 2! You get to fucking nap all day while I’m working my ass off and dealing with shitty people who act like I’m not even fucking there! But yeah, no, I’m sure sitting in a chair and running your mouth for four hours is just exhausting, huh Rich?”

Richie’s rolled his eyes at Eddie’s dramatics and stood up. “I don’t know what crawled up your ass and died, Eds, but if you pull it out maybe we can eat _that_ for dinner.”

Richie tried for a grin, but Eddie crossed his arms over his chest. Richie walked over to where he stood and brushed a strand of hair from his forehead, but Eddie pushed his hand away, jaw set.

“Babe, what happened? Why are you so upset?”

“I’m upset because I work so fucking hard and you sit around and do practically nothing, and I don’t want to come home to a dirty apartment and have to worry about dinner and-”

Richie’s eyes hardened. “Well I’m sorry I’m not the perfect trophy wife for ya, Eds, but I didn’t sign up for that shit. I do those things because I want to make things easier for you but some days suck for me, too-”

Eddie stomped past Richie. “Oh, your day sucked? What, did your intern not get your coffee order right? Did your co-host make a funnier joke than you? Is your comfy chair that you get to sit in all fucking day getting squeaky? What is it, Richie? What could possibly make your day so fucking shitty that you couldn’t even do the fucking dishes when you got home?”

“Fuck you,” Richie muttered. “I get that you don’t like your fucking job but you don’t have to take it out on me.”

“Maybe it’s not the job I don’t like!” Eddie yelled, his mouth moving without his permission. The words were out before he could stop them. “Maybe it’s you that I don’t like!”

Silence settled in the room, and Richie stood with his jaw dropped for a moment. Eddie opened his mouth, taking a step forward, but Richie stepped backward. “Don’t. You’ve said all you need to say. I’m going to Stan’s.”

Richie turned and left the living room, going to their bedroom to pack an overnight bag. Eddie stood in the living room, unmoving, long after he left.

*

Eddie didn’t sleep that night. He knew he fucked up, and as soon as the words were out of his mouth he wanted to shove them back in. He’d wanted to hurt Richie, he’d wanted Richie to feel just as shitty as he did and so he’d said something he knew would hurt. He knew how insecure Richie could be about their relationship - as much smoke as he blew Richie had always been terrified of rejection, of losing Eddie. And Eddie had thrown it in his face like it was nothing.

At 4:37 am, Eddie got out of bed, not having slept at all, and walked to the living room where the phone was. He dialed Stan’s number.

The first time, it went to the answering machine. He called again. This time, he let the answering machine speak before leaving a message.

“Stan? It’s Eddie. I’m sorry it’s late, I just… I need to talk to Richie. Can you have him call me when he wakes up? I-”

“Hello?”

“Stan?” Eddie said, surprised. “Is Richie awake?”

“He’s -” Stan paused, then sighed. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to talk to him right now.”

Eddie felt tears building behind his eyes. “Stan, please, I just need -”

“Hello?”

“Rich -”

“Listen, we’re trying to sleep,” Richie said, his voice surprisingly calm and devoid of emotion. “I’ll be by in the morning to pack my stuff-”

“No, what the fuck? Richie, no, I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry-”

“I’ll see you in the morning, Eddie,” Richie said, and hung up the phone. Eddie was numb for a moment, staring at the phone in his hand as Richie’s voice rang in his head.

 _Eddie_.

Eddie wasn’t sure if Richie had ever called him by his name like that before. It was always Eds, or Eddie Spaghetti when he was feeling particularly annoying. It sounded wrong in his voice. It sounded detached, unloving.

Eddie broke into tears. He sobbed into the couch cushion, his chest heaving and vision blurry, until he fell into a fitful sleep.

*

He was awoken a few hours later by the front door opening and closing, and he sat up, rubbing his swollen eyes. Richie was there, and he didn’t even look at Eddie as he walked past. 

“Richie, stop,” Eddie called, getting up and following him into the bedroom. He was already opening their closet, pulling out a duffel bag. “Rich, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it, I was pissed and taking it out on you -”

“It’s fine, Eddie,” Richie said, monotone. He put the bag on the bed, then moved to the dresser. 

“Stop calling me that! It’s not fine! I don’t - I don’t want to break up, why are you doing this?”

Richie stopped, his shoulders sagging. Eddie walked over to him, putting a tentative hand on his arm, and when he didn’t pull away he softly pushed at Richie’s shoulder to get him to turn. Eddie could see the dark circles under his eyes, how pale his cheeks were, and it brought more tears to his own eyes.

“I’m so sorry, I swear I didn’t mean it, I just-”

“Do you really think I don’t do anything?” Richie asked, his voice breaking. Eddie felt like he was punched in the stomach as he watched the tears fill Richie’s eyes. “I work really hard, Eddie, and I worked hard to get where I am, and-”

“No, I know that, I swear, I just -” Eddie shook his head, wiping his eyes. “I was mad and I was saying what I knew would hurt you, and I -”

Richie shook his head, looking away from Eddie. “I know that’s why you said you didn’t like me. I know that. You were just being a bitch.” The words stung, but Eddie nodded. “But the rest of it. That was true, Eddie. You really think I sit around and do nothing all day, and you expect me to come home and clean and cook like a fucking housewife. You act like I don’t have a real job or something. I’m really sorry that you’re not happy at work but you can’t - you can’t take that out on me.”

“I know,” Eddie whispered, looking at the ground. Every time Richie called him _Eddie_ he felt more and more sick. He couldn’t help but picture Richie filling up that duffel bag after this conversation and leaving. “I know, and I’m sorry. I just - I’m jealous. You ended up doing what you love and I’m… I’m getting cursed at and ignored and yelled at by my boss on a daily basis, and I’m jealous. I’m so sorry I took it out on you, I just… please don’t leave, Rich. I’ll - I’ll help more around the apartment and I’ll be more understanding of your job and I’ll be better, I swear, just _please_ don’t leave -”

“I’m not leaving,” Richie said quietly. The words hit Eddie quickly and he let out a sob of relief, falling into Richie’s arms. Richie let him cry for a moment but didn’t wrap his arms around him. “I’m still mad at you, Eddie.”

Eddie pulled back, biting his lip. Richie had every right to be mad, but Eddie didn’t know what else he could do to make it up to him. He thought about all the times he’d been angry, how Richie had helped him deal with that anger.

“What do you need me to do?”

“Just let me be angry.”

Eddie nodded. Just as he was about to turn around and leave Richie alone, Richie leaned forward and pressed his lips to Eddie’s cheek.

The small gesture meant everything to Eddie, who felt some of the tension leave his body. He just needed to let Richie move on from this in his own time. Richie just needed to cool off, and they would be fine. 

“I love you, Rich,” he whispered. He turned around, only stopping when Richie answered.

“I love you, too, Eds.”

Eddie couldn’t help but smile, just a little. Yeah, they would be fine.


	5. "i love you," muffled from the other side of the door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rated T for language
> 
> angst with a happy ending

“Can you let me in, please?” Eddie said, leaning against Richie’s bedroom door. The knob was locked and there was no way he was strong enough to break it down, and even if he was Richie would kill him for how much money it would cost him.

He could hear Richie shuffling around and felt his hope growing, but then the noise stopped and he huffed out a sigh.

“At least talk to me,” he tried, settling down on the floor with his back against the door.

There was more noise from inside the bedroom, and Eddie smiled when he felt Richie’s back against the other side of the door.

“Nothing to talk about,” Richie’s voice sounded hoarse. Eddie wondered if he’d been crying.

“It was one bad show, Rich. And it wasn’t even your fault. The audience was just shitty. They wouldn’t know funny if it smacked them in the face. There’s gonna be a million other shows where you absolutely kill it, I promise.”

“The audience was fine,” Richie’s voice was muffled through the door. “I just sucked.”

“You didn’t suck,” Eddie said quickly. “You were maybe a little off your rhythm but everyone has off nights. It doesn’t make you a bad comedian. It makes you human.”

Richie was silent.

“Babe, come on,” he said, then his eyes widened and he bit his lip. That was a pet name that was supposed to be off-limits. Their arrangement, best friends with benefits, that they’d started halfway through college and were continuing now three years after graduation, called for no pet names, minimal kissing, and no romance. Eddie and Richie had both slipped a few times. For Eddie, he knew it was because over the years his own feelings had become a jumbled mess and he didn’t know how to change the situation. He had a feeling Richie felt the exact same way. Neither of them knew how to make the move from no-strings-attached to something more.

Richie was still quiet and Eddie racked his brain for something else to say. He was just about to make some half-assed encouraging statement when he heard a sniffle from Richie’s side of the door. Eddie turned around and stood back up, knocking again and pressing his face to the wood.

“Come on, Rich, please let me in.”

“Why do you care?” Richie said, and Eddie could tell he was crying. He felt tears build in his own eyes. “I’m not anybody special. I’m just the shitty opener comedian, I’m just the guy who makes sound effects on the radio, I’m just the comedic relief friend, I’m just the fuck buddy-“

“Shut up! You’re not _just_ anything! You’re young and you’re still building your career but you’re making something out of yourself! You’re either going to tour the world as a stand-up comedian or you’re going to have your own radio show that everybody loves, and your friends love you so much. You’re so much more than comedic relief.”

Eddie could hear Richie standing up, and he felt when Richie pressed his forehead to the other side of the door.

“Still just the fuck buddy.” The words were muffled, but Eddie heard them as though they were in high definition.

He swallowed past the lump in his throat.

“No you’re not,” he said, voice wavering. “You know you’re more than that.”

The doorknob moved, like Richie had put his hand on it, but it didn’t turn.

“Come on, Rich,” he pleaded, closing his eyes. “Please don’t make me tell you I love you through a door.”

The door opened quickly, and Eddie felt a surge of relief, followed quickly by sadness. Richie was wearing a t-shirt and boxers, his hair a mess and tears on his cheeks. Without a word, he opened his arms and pulled Richie in for a hug, his heart breaking as Richie cried onto his shoulder.

Eddie knew it wasn’t an easy fix. Richie was still going to feel insecure about his career choice and abilities no matter what Eddie did.

"Thank you,” Richie whispered into Eddie’s hair, still holding on.

“Anytime,” Eddie said. And he meant it.


	6. eddie's 17th birhday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rated T for language

richie wasn’t even supposed to be there. it was the eve of eddie’s seventeenth birthday and eddie had told him not to risk coming over. if his mom found richie in eddie’s room again she’d flip and not let eddie out of his room on his own birthday.

but richie was nothing if not a persistent little shit. so he climbed into eddie’s window anyway, eddie’s gift in his back pocket.

“hey eds, happy birthday!” richie whispered, at least having the common sense not to come in yelling. that’s what had gotten him caught the last three times. eddie was surprised his mother hadn’t put bars on his window yet.

“richie!” eddie whisper-yelled back. “i told you not to come over!”

“i had to see my eddie spaghetti on his seventeenth birthday!”

“my birthday’s not til tomorrow, dipshit!” eddie rolled his eyes, scooting over on his bed to make room for richie. richie kicked his shoes off gracelessly and fell onto the mattress where eddie had left room for him. “i’m literally going to see you in the morning. what was so important that couldn’t wait?”

“uh.. hello? you can’t be alone at midnight on your birthday,” richie said, as though this were common knowledge. “and i got a gift for you, separate from the one we all got you as a group.”

eddie flushed, pleased. “you guys didn’t have to get me anything…”

“of course we did,” richie waved him off. he pulled out an envelope from his back pocket. the corners were bent and it looked a little worse for wear, but eddie grinned at the messily scrawled ‘eddie’ on the front. “anyway. here’s this. it’s just from me.”

“you shouldn’t have, rich,” eddie said, even as he yanked the envelope from richie’s fingers. he hastily opened it, smiling widely as a mixtape fell out from behind a birthday card. the card had candles on it, with a general happy birthday message on it. eddie recognized it as the cheapest one at the drugstore (he had gotten the same one for his mother last year, in fact), but he was still touched by the thoughtfulness. richie didn’t exactly have a lot of money to blow.

“well go on,” richie urged. “read it!”

eddie opened the card and read richie’s writing.

_dear eds,_

_happy birthday!!!!!! i made you this mixtape of songs that make me think of you. me and the losers promised not to get you individual gifts cuz not everyone’s got the money so don’t tell them about this. just between me and you._

_love,  
richie_

“thank you, rich,” eddie said softly. “seriously. i can’t wait to listen to it. just as long as it’s not total eclipse of the heart ten times in a row like last time.”

richie laughed. “that was classic.”

eddie rolled his eyes.

“but it’s not. it’s serious. just songs i think you’d like.”

“well,” eddie said, standing up and going to his boombox. “if we keep the volume down low we can listen to it now-”

“no!” richie all but shouted. eddie whirled to face him, shushing him, and richie apologized. they both stayed silent for a moment, watching the door and waiting for sonia kaspbrak to burst through. when she didn’t, the boys both relaxed. “wait until i leave to play it, eds.”

eddie was already opening the tape deck. “what? why? isn’t that why you came over?”

“no, i-” he stopped as the song began playing. he could feel the blush heating up his cheeks as eddie stood, wide eyed, listening to the song he’d once claimed as the most romantic song he’d ever heard.

_if i ever get a boy- significant other_ , he’d said carefully to richie, who felt his insides twisting up at the almost-confession, _i’d want this to be our song._

“i love this song,” eddie whispered softly, almost to himself.

“i know,” richie responded, just as quietly.

they sat silently as foreigner played through eddie’s speakers until the next song started.

richie had forgotten he’d put the bryan adams song in. he’d debated with himself for a while, scared to put himself out there so boldly. 

richie watched eddie listen to the song, singing the words under his breath with a tiny smile on his face, and richie wondered if he got it. did he understand what was happening? the card had said the songs made richie think of him. 

the third song played and richie had to bite back a smile as whitney houston filled the room. eddie turned to him, finally.

“these songs make you think of me?” he asked. richie nodded, feeling timid for one of the first times in his life. “they’re all love songs.”

richie sucked in a sharp breath and shrugged. “yeah, they are.”

eddie looked like he was going to say something, and then shut his mouth. he looked at richie for a long moment, as though he were studying his face. as though he were seeing his best friend for the first time. richie didn’t know when it had happened but eddie had pushed himself closer to where richie sat, close enough that he could count the freckles scattered across eddie’s nose. 

richie’s heart pounded in his chest as eddie leaned closer, until hot breath was fanning across his face. their noses bumped and richie tilted his head, moving on instinct, unable to think straight. their lips brushed, barely, before eddie pulled back the slightest bit. richie sat in a trance, eyes closed, relishing in the feeling of eddie’s breath on his lips.

richie pushed forward with his eyes closed, felt their lips brush again for just a moment. they were both breathing heavily in the small space between them. a quiet breath escaped richie’s lips when eddie’s hand found the side of his face, and then he was being pulled forward, their lips finally pressing together. neither knew what they were doing, at first staying still and waiting for the other to make a move, and finally getting the hang of the small movements until they found a rhythm, their lips moving together and casting sparks behind richie’s eyelids. 

when they pulled back, both boys were smiling, and a new song was playing. when they opened their eyes and looked at each other, they both began giggling, before quickly leaning back in for more.

eddie kaspbrak had never had a better birthday.


	7. "we're best friends...it shouldn't be this hard"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rated T for language
> 
> angst

Richie sat on the front porch of his home, a cigarette hanging between shaking fingers. He hadn’t moved in almost half an hour, which was probably a record. But he couldn’t get the words Eddie had said to him out of his head.

“I got accepted to NYU,” he’d said, smiling sadly. Richie knew why he was sad. NYU was no where near LA, where Richie himself was headed. 

“Congrats, Eds,” Richie answered, trying to smile as widely as he could. He pulled Eddie in for a hug, breathing in the scent of his best friend with the knowledge that in five short months, he wouldn’t be able to do this anymore. You couldn’t hug someone that lived across the country.

“We can talk on the phone all the time, and write letters. And maybe we can save up and visit each other a few times a year!” Eddie had spoken the words with excitement, but they both knew how empty they were. They knew how quickly long-distance friendships faded. Bev had moved four years earlier and now the only time they spoke to her was on birthdays. It wasn’t on purpose, people just drift. They get busy. They meet new people. Make new best friends.

The thoughts had sent Richie into a tailspin of negativity, and with a fake smile he’d told Eddie he had to leave, that he’d forgotten he’d promised to do something with his parents, and he’d see him later.

And when he got home, he couldn’t bring himself to go inside. Maybe if he kept the news to himself, didn’t tell his parents or anyone, then it wouldn’t be real. He could just sit on his porch and smoke and pretend like nothing was happening.

He was doing a good job of pretending like nothing was happening until a small white car pulled up in front of his house. The cigarette fell from his hand as Eddie got out of the driver’s seat and marched up to him.

“I know you don’t have anything to do with your parents,” he said angrily. “We- we’re best friends,this shouldn’t be that hard, right? It’s not like we’re-”

The rest of his sentence went unsaid, but Richie knew what he meant.

_It’s not like we’re in a relationship._

It broke him, and the first tear fell.

“Fuck you, Eddie,” he said, wiping at his cheeks. “How can you say that? Yeah, we’re just best friends. That’s why I spend every night in your bed, why we make out every fucking time we get drunk, why you’re the first person I go to for everything, why -”

“Stop!” Eddie yelled, and Richie could see that he was crying, too. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I know we’re not… I know what we are, okay? I know that I love you, and that you love me.”

“Then why are you going?” Richie asked, voice thick with tears.

“Because I _have_ to, Rich,” he said, sniffling. “It’s my dream school. I’ve wanted to go since I was a kid. Why do you have to go to LA?”

“Because that’s my dream,” Richie said softly.

“You can be a comedian in New York,” Eddie responded, his voice edging on desperate. “We can go together, we can get an apartment and we can be together for real, we can -”

“I’ll think about it,” Richie said quietly, although they both knew he wouldn’t. “Let’s just be together for now, yeah? Let’s be happy together right now.”

“Okay,” Eddie said, tears falling down his cheeks. 

“The next five months are going to be the happiest of our lives,” Richie said, closing the distance between them. He took Eddie’s face in his hands and wiped the tears away, but Eddie kept crying.

“Okay,” Eddie said again, before leaning into a kiss that tasted like tears.


	8. "what do they have that i don't?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rated T for language
> 
> angst, warning for internalized homophobia

Richie sat between Bev and Bill, shock written across his features as he watched Eddie across the cafeteria, sitting next to a blonde girl. They were holding hands, heads close together. Richie could see a smile on Eddie’s face. 

Richie remembered the smile that had been on Eddie’s face three days before. They’d been in Richie’s room, doing homework, when Eddie had complained about a difficult math problem. Richie had leaned over to help him, their faces so close, and before he knew what was happening Eddie was leaning into him, pressing their lips together and curling a hand into the hair at the nape of his neck. The kiss was desperate, sloppy, and Richie had been breathless. 

And then Eddie had ripped himself away, face flushed a bright red. He stuttered out an apology and raced out of the room. He’d avoided Richie ever since.

And now, apparently, he had a girlfriend.

“Her name’s Molly,” Bev said softly, shaking Richie from his reverie. “She’s in our bio class. Her and Eddie have been lab partners all semester.”

“When did they-”

“Yesterday,” Bev answered. “She’s been flirty for months but Eddie’s mostly ignored it. I dunno what changed, but-”

“I did. I’m what’s changed,” Richie said harshly. Bill and Bev both gave him questioning looks, and he shut his eyes tight. “We kissed. Like, three days ago. He freaked the fuck out and ran out. He hasn’t talked to me since.”

“Did you…” Bill trailed off, looking uncomfortable. He’d known of Richie’s crush for a while. “Did you kiss him, or -”

“We kissed each other, Bill.” Richie answered. “It was mutual. I mean, we - we made out for a couple minutes. He was into it, and then he just. Left.”

“I’m sorry, Rich,” Bill said with a frown. 

“It’s whatever,” Richie said with a shrug.

That afternoon he sat on his bed, attempting his homework. He was a good student, made straight A’s even if he was a bit disruptive, but he couldn’t seem to focus. He couldn’t get Eddie and that girl out of his head. Had he kissed her? Were they making out right now? Did he kiss her the way he had kissed Richie?

Before he knew what he was doing, his shoes were on and he was headed out the front door. The walk to Eddie’s house was short, and he tapped his foot harshly as he waited for someone to answer the door.

Finally, Eddie appeared, looking shocked to see Richie.

“Can we talk?” He asked, before Eddie could say anything. “Your mom’s car isn’t here, so I figured-”

“Yes, fine,” Eddie said, grabbing his arm and yanking him inside. They made their way to Eddie bedroom, and once Eddie turned to look at Richie, waiting for him to say something, Richie realized he had no idea what to say.

“What?” Eddie finally said. He wasn’t meeting Richie’s eyes, looking at the ground instead.

“You have a girlfriend,” he said dumbly.

“I - yeah,” Eddie agreed. They both stood awkwardly, a few feet apart from each other.

“How long have you liked her?” Richie asked.

Eddie opened his mouth to answer and then stopped, his cheeks flushing. “Can we not talk about this? I don’t want to -”

“Did you like her when you kissed me?” Richie interrupted. He could feel the tears stinging behind his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He could hear how choked up his words sounded but he didn’t care. “Or was it after you kissed me that you decided you liked her?”

Eddie was silent, staring at his feet.

“Well?” Richie prodded.

“After,” Eddie murmured. “It was after.”

Richie hadn’t expected him to admit it. It felt like a blow to the chest. 

“I - what - what does she have that I don’t?”

Richie hadn’t realized that Eddie had been on the verge of tears as well, but suddenly they were falling down his cheeks as he hugged his midsection. 

Finally, Eddie looked up at him, glassy brown eyes meeting his own. “She’s a girl,” he whispered through the tears.

Richie took a few small steps closer. 

“Eds, I don’t understand, I don’t - do you - I mean, do you not like boys?”

Eddie choked on his tears, a hand coming up to cover his mouth. Richie reached out, placing a comforting hand on his arm. Eddie fell into him, and Richie felt his tears dampening his shirt. He didn’t care, he held Eddie close to him, running a hand through his hair.

Finally, Eddie pulled back, and their eyes met again. 

“It’s not that I don’t, it’s that I _can’t_ like boys,” Eddie said quietly. Richie leaned his forehead against Eddie’s, wiping away tears that kept falling. “I love you, Richie, but I _can’t_.”

The distance between them disappeared, but this time their kiss tasted like tears. Richie’s kiss said a lot of things. _Pick me. I love you, too. We’ll get through this together._

The sound of the front door opening pulled them apart.

“You have to go,” Eddie said softly. Richie nodded, tears of his own welling in his eyes.

He pulled away, walking toward Eddie’s bedroom door. He opened it and stepped out, but before he left, he turned to face his best friend.

With his heart in his hand, he asked, “are you sure?”

Eddie bit his lip as more tears fell. “I’m sorry.”

Richie nodded. He left the room, ignoring Mrs. K’s calls to him as he exited the front door. And then, broken heart in hand, he made his way home alone. 


	9. post break up kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rated T for language
> 
> angst with a happy ending

It had never gotten this bad before.

Sure, they argued all the time, but usually they both knew it was just teasing. Occasionally they would get into real arguments, usually about stupid shit that didn’t even matter by the time they made up. There had been only one instance that could really be called a fight. It had been over where to go to college, and it hadn’t lasted more than four days.

This time, they were hitting the three-week mark since the last time they spoke. Eddie had spent most of that time in a daze, going to work, eating, sleeping, but not really living. Richie had spent that time in Seattle.

Eddie still found himself staring at the text from Beverly. _Richie’s here_. He hadn’t heard anything else from her and he didn’t know what he could say in response. His boyfriend  
had taken his car and left for an entirely different state after the fight, what was there to say? Beverly and Ben were the only losers on this side of the country, of course that’s where he’d go.

He was bitter about it. He didn’t have the option of running away like Richie did. He had a job that he had to go to every day. And where would he go? Georgia, to see Stan? Stan, who had always been closer to Richie, who always got Richie in some weird best friend kind of way? Or Mike in Florida? It would take a week to even get there. Or he could just hop on a plane to fucking London to see Bill on his film set, because he totally has the time to take care of his weepy best friend.

But he had a job. A _real_ job. And that was the issue, wasn’t it? How funny that the whole reason they were fighting is the thing that allowed Richie to run away. Fucking hilarious.

Eddie kept replaying the fight in his head as he sat on the couch, bundled up in a blanket from the hall closet, because the one from the bed smelled like Richie. The TV was on but he wasn’t paying attention to it, instead going over every word they’d said, trying to figure out what they could’ve done differently.

But there wasn’t anything. They hadn’t said anything biting, anything cruel. There were no insults. What started as a normal conversation escalated until Richie was getting up and walking away, telling Eddie he couldn’t deal with this. He’d packed a duffel bag and Eddie had just stared, shocked. Without a goodbye, Richie got in his car and drove away.

The thing was, Richie wasn’t thinking logically; he was viewing the situation from an emotional standpoint. Eddie understood that. But just because he’s passionate about it doesn’t mean reality goes away! Just because he was a good comedian didn’t mean he could make a career out of it! Just quit his job and join a stand-up tour across the country! The pay was almost nonexistent, and he would be gone for four months and _how could he audition for this without telling me_? How many other things had he auditioned for? Things that would take him away from Eddie for months at a time?

This was so fucking stupid. Richie was good, too good to jump on the first opportunity that knocks. He was willing to take a shitty deal just because it was the first offer. They were in LA for fuck’s sake, surely there was some position somewhere that would cover his half of the rent! And he wouldn’t have to leave for months at a time!

But the worst part was that he wasn’t willing to talk about it. Eddie had been ready to argue until they’d come to some kind of compromise. It’s what they did. Even when the fight hurts, they don’t fight each other, they fight the issue. It never felt like Richie versus Eddie. It was supposed to be Richie and Eddie versus figuring out Richie’s career path. But Richie had left.

A knock at the door startled him so badly he knocked the remote off the couch. It was past seven at night, who the hell would be knocking? He wiped his eyes and went to the door, not really caring if he looked presentable. Let the delivery guy or who the fuck ever know he spent his Saturday curled in a ball of sadness on the couch.

But it wasn’t a delivery guy.

They stood staring at each other for a moment. Richie looked tired. He looked sad.

“Um, you don’t have to knock,” Eddie finally said quietly. “It’s still your apartment, too.”

“Yeah, I just-“ He stopped his sentence and shrugged, looking at the ground. Eddie moved so he could come inside, and Richie dropped his duffel on the floor of the entry way. Eddie started walking back toward the living room when Richie grabbed his hand, stopping him. “Eddie?”

Eddie swallowed thickly. Richie was still holding his hand, and there was an ache in his chest because he didn’t even realize how much he missed him.

Richie looked like he was going to say something, or do something, but he looked back down to the ground and shook his head. “Never  
mind.”

Eddie nodded, not knowing what to do. Richie just stood there with his head down. He dropped Eddie’s hand and Eddie immediately wanted to grab it back but forced himself to turn around and walk.

Eddie felt awkward, standing in the middle of their living room staring at Richie. He hadn’t entered the room. He looked like he wasn’t sure he was allowed. The only sound was the quiet murmur of the TV, and the pounding of Eddie’s heart in his ears.

“You left,” he said, when the silence became too much. He knew he sounded like he was about to cry but he didn’t care.

“I did,” Richie said softly. He wouldn’t look up.

“We could’ve – we could’ve worked things out, we just needed to talk about it, and you left.”

Richie didn’t say anything, but he glanced up to meet Eddie’s eyes. He looked a little like a kicked puppy and Eddie wanted nothing more than to hold him, tell him it was okay and that they’d work it out. But he couldn’t.

“You _left me_.”

Richie’s face crumpled. He spoke through the tears that had started to fall. “I know.”

Eddie was concerned. It was so unlike Richie to clam up, to not speak his mind.

Richie licked his lips, swallowed, took a deep breath. “I don’t have an excuse. I just did it. I’m sorry.”

He didn’t look away as he apologized, and Eddie knew Richie better than anyone. It was a genuine apology. He meant what he said.

“It’s not okay,” he said carefully. Richie’s face dropped; he looked like he’d been punched. “But I forgive you.”

“I don’t know what that means, Eddie.”

“It means you can sleep on the couch tonight and we can figure it out tomorrow.”

They didn’t say much after that. Eddie went to bed while Richie showered. He tried to fall asleep, but he couldn’t get Richie’s face out of his head. He wasn’t even sure that he was mad anymore; he couldn’t feel anything beyond how much he missed him. How stupid it was to be in different rooms when he wanted nothing more than to be next to Richie.

It wasn’t even nine o’clock when Eddie sighed and went back to the living room. Richie was sitting on the couch in the same place Eddie had sat earlier, and he looked up from the TV when Eddie came in.

“Did I wake you up? I’m sorry, I can turn the TV –“

One moment he was standing in front of Richie, the next he had dropped into his lap, grabbed his face, and kissed him.

Richie’s hands found his cheeks, thumb rubbing the soft skin there. After a few moments, Richie started to pull away. Eddie pushed forward, deepening the kiss and clutching at Richie’s shirt beneath his hands. He hoped Richie could feel everything he was trying to say.

_I missed you. We’re okay. I love you._

Richie smiled into the kiss, then broke into a wet laugh. Eddie used his thumb to catch the tears that were falling down his face, and Richie closed his eyes. They rested their foreheads together, breathing each other’s air. Richie and Eddie versus the world.

_I missed you. We’re okay. I love you._


	10. "car sex looks so much easier in the movies"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rated M

“Hold on, let me – I need to unbuckle my seatbelt,” Eddie said, pulling away from Richie’s lips. Richie sighed, propping his chin on his palm, elbow on the center console. “Stop looking at me like I kicked your puppy.”

“You’re the one who doesn’t wanna kiss me, Eds,” Richie answered, lips upturned at the corners.

“I literally just had to take my seatbelt off because it was choking me – “

“Oh, kinky.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, but quickly relaxed into a smile when Richie reached for him. They fell back into a slow kiss, languid movements of their lips together, Richie’s palms cupping Eddie’s cheeks. After a few moments, Eddie pressed forward, opening his mouth and letting his tongue brush Richie’s lips. Richie made an aborted movement to get closer, then pulled away with a groan.

“Backseat,” he said, already beginning to move.

“Rich! We could wait until we – “

“Nope! Come here, Eds,” Richie smiled, making grabby hands at Eddie from where he’d settled behind the driver’s seat. Eddie rolled his eyes but complied, climbing into the backseat and grimacing at the pain that started at his hip and radiated down his leg to his knee.

“We’re way too fucking old for this,” he said, once he’d landed next to Richie. “Do you even have lube?”

Richie frowned.

Eddie huffed. “A condom?”

Richie’s frown deepened.

“Napkins? Tissues?”

“I was planning on cleaning up with my shirt – “

“Richie, that’s disgusting. You literally planned this, how do you not have anything?”

“Planning has always been your thing, really,” Richie answered with an embarrassed shrug. Eddie blinked at him in disbelief. “Besides, it was supposed to _feel_ spontaneous, even if it wasn’t. Like we’re teenagers again!”

“We never had sex in a car when we were teenagers,” Eddie reminded him.

“Okay, _no_ , but the point is you’re supposed to, like, think about when you got together! And I don’t know about you but I definitely would have fucked you in a car if either of us had one back then.”

“I’m beginning to think you don’t understand the concept of an anniversary date,” Eddie remarked, trying to fight a smile.

“This is a _milestone_ , Eds, I’m trying to bring back the fun and spontaneity of our sixteen year-old selves!”

“Then you should’ve snuck in the house through the bedroom window,” Eddie told him with a smirk. Richie sighed, falling back against the car door. “Don’t look so sad, babe. We’re like, five minutes from home.”

“Yeah, but, like, we have sex in our bed all the time. We’ve never had car sex. Twenty years together and we’ve _never_ fucked in a car? How did we even manage that? It needs to be remedied – “

“Car sex looks so much easier in the movies,” Eddie interrupted, grabbing Richie’s hand that was mid-air as he spoke. He pressed a kiss to the back of it, feeling warm at the smile that bloomed on his boyfriend’s face. “In real life, it’s messy and cramped and honestly, just climbing back here was killer on my hip; do you want to be one of those people that has to go to the hospital because they got injured having sex?”

“Suppose not,” Richie said sadly, though the light behind his eyes belied the humor he saw in the situation. “Can I kiss you at least?”

“You never have to ask, Rich,” Eddie murmured, not for the first time, as Richie scooted forward until their legs touched. Their lips met and Richie didn’t wait to make it open-mouthed and to tangle his fingers in Eddie’s hair. Eddie sighed into the kiss, his own hands wrapping around the other man and roaming his back. Before he realized what had happened, his back was pressed to the car door, the handle digging into his spine, but he ignored it in favor of focusing on Richie’s hand that slipped under his shirt. He whined when rough fingers pinched a nipple, and Richie pressed even more of his weight against him. “Hold on, hold on.”

Richie was breathless, lips red and slick with spit and cheeks pink.

“Sorry, the door was like, digging into my back. Here.” He pushed at Richie’s legs until he was facing forward, then climbed into his lap, knees on either side of his legs. “Better.”

“Much better,” Richie agreed, hands immediately slipping under Eddie’s shirt again. Unthinkingly, Eddie ground his hips down, breath hitching at the friction. “Don’t start something you’re not gonna finish, babe,” Richie gasped, gripping Eddie’s hips to keep him from moving.

Eddie lightly wrapped his fingers around Richie’s wrists, pulling them away from his hips and dropping them before tugging his own shirt over his head. “I’m not letting you inside me without lube,” he stated, looking down between them and unbuttoning Richie’s pants. Richie’s head fell back against the seat as Eddie reached into his underwear to wrap a hand around him. “And handjobs would be messy.”

Eddie leaned forward to press a soft, chaste kiss to Richie’s lips. He let go of Richie’s cock and lifted his weight off his boyfriend the best he could. Richie got the message, twisting until he was lying on his back across the seats with one foot on the floor, and one leg bent in the air, foot pressed against the window. He looked up at Eddie who had settled himself between Richie’s legs.

“But,” Eddie continued, pulling Richie’s pants and boxers halfway down his thighs. “I could be persuaded to try something else.”

Richie groaned loudly as Eddie leaned down to lick at the head of his cock.

He looked up at Richie and grinned. “Happy anniversary, Rich,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to Richie’s hipbone, before taking him into his mouth.

“Happy fuckin’ anniversary,” Richie said back, breathlessly, looking down at Eddie’s bright brown eyes and wondering how the hell he’d gotten so lucky.


	11. inappropriately timed confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rated T for language

“I can’t decide if this is a really terrible idea or the best idea you’ve ever had,” Beverly said, joint between her fingers. “Like, entertaining no matter what, for sure. Dramatic as fuck. I just – I worry.”

Richie sighed, sinking back into the couch. “Yeah, I know.”

“It’s not even about the theatrics of it all, though,” Bev continued, as though Richie hadn’t spoken. “Like… Imagine Sonia’s face. That’d be worth the entire thing. But it could backfire so badly. It could embarrass him. And I know the whole, _best-friend-solidarity thing_ means I hate Myra on principle, but I also don’t actually hate Myra? She’s not great, and Sonia’s certainly trying to train her into Mrs. K. 2.0, but she seems nice. In like, a lonely girl kind of way, you know? I used to be a lonely girl. I remember what it was like to think no one loved me, or even liked me. So what if like… Eddie’s the first person that likes her? Or loves her? Seems unfair to her.”

Richie sighed again, louder this time. “Yeah. I know.”

“Like, Rich, she didn’t have enough bridesmaids for all the Losers to be in Eddie’s wedding party. I know you acted like you were taking one for the team when you bowed out but the fact that you couldn’t handle being a groomsman was a stroke of luck for her. And the fact that Eddie has me and I could be a bridesmaid. I’m the only one who isn’t related to her, Rich. She’s a lonely girl. Makes me sad.”

Richie didn’t sigh. He blinked back the tears in his eyes.

“I used to be a lonely girl, Richie.”

“Yeah,” he said, reaching out to clumsily pat her hand. “I know.”

He couldn’t stop thinking about what Bev had said. It wasn’t fair that he’d been across the country getting his degree while Eddie was here in New York, meeting a girl and falling in love and getting engaged before Richie could even cry about it. By the time he’d gotten here, moved into an apartment with Ben and Bev because they’re all too codependent, it was too late. There was already a ring on her finger.

That didn’t mean he didn’t fantasize about bursting in on the ceremony as the preacher announced the moment for anyone to speak now or forever hold their peace. Richie’s never held peace in his life, this would be a piece of cake.

Except the fantasy doesn’t end the way it used to, before Bev got high and sad about Myra. He used to imagine Eddie jumping into his arms, shooting the bird at his mother, yelling something inappropriate to the crowd at large, before they ran away together and went on the honeymoon Eddie was supposed to go on with Myra. Now the fantasy had shifted. He stood awkwardly in the aisle, clearing his throat. Eddie would turn around, furious, glaring at him and gesturing for him to leave. Myra would cry. Sonia would smirk as she closed the church doors in Richie’s face.

The problem was that it was impossible to hate Myra. Beverly was right, she’d never had friends or a boyfriend before she and Eddie got together. Her entire world revolved around him, and so what if she got clingy sometimes? Richie would too if he had Eddie to cling to. So what if she came Sonia approved? She didn’t know Eddie’s inhaler was a placebo. Eddie still didn’t even like to admit it. She wasn’t doing anything _wrong_ by being overprotective. Richie wanted to hate her. He wanted to hate her because he could tell Eddie wasn’t happy, was just doing what he thought he was supposed to do.

Just last week at his bachelor party Eddie had drunkenly confessed to Richie that he had cold feet, was questioning why he was with Myra in the first place. He hadn’t remembered in the morning, but Richie did. It was then that his fantasy started to shift from dream to plan.

But he was scrapping the plan, now. Beverly was right (as usual). He couldn’t do that to Myra. He couldn’t do that to Eddie. It’s an asshole move to interrupt a wedding, anyway. Who actually does that? Richie was not going to be that asshole. He was not going to embarrass Eddie, or himself.

_

Instead, he interrupted the rehearsal dinner.

Though _interrupted_ is a strong word. He hadn’t said anything in front of anyone other than Eddie. He’d quietly and calmly made his way to the head of the table, tapped the groom-to-be on the shoulder, and led him from the dining hall.

“What’s up?”

Richie stared at him, wishing somehow he could say it with his eyes. But he knew, if Eddie hadn’t seen it in their twenty years of friendship, he wasn’t about to start seeing it now.

“Rich?”

“Don’t do this,” he pleaded. He closed his eyes, unable to look at Eddie anymore.

“Don’t do what?”

Richie almost groaned. “Get married! Don’t! You’re not – you’re not happy, Eds. I _know_ you aren’t.”

“How do you know that?” Eddie asked, an edge to his voice. Richie opened his eyes expecting to see anger, but he found Eddie’s eyes impossible to read.

“You told me. At your bachelor party. And I can – I can see it. We all can. You can do so much better, you –“

“So what, are you the spokesperson for the Losers? You’re all conspiring to get me to call off my wedding behind my back?”

“What? N – No!” Richie sputtered.

“They _would_ send you,” Eddie said with a dark chuckle. Richie felt knots forming in his stomach. “That was probably Bill’s idea, right? Have _you_ try to convince me there’s someone better for me like I don’t already fucking know that? Like that’s not the reason I’m doing this in the first place?”

“Eddie, I don’t –“ he shook his head. “I don’t understand what you’re saying, nobody sent me, I just –“

“Maybe you should go.”

Richie’s eyes widened. “What? Eddie, no, I’m sorry! Look, whatever you’re talking about, it’s not – the only one who knows I was planning to talk to you is Bev, I haven’t talked to Bill about anything, nobody even knows you said you aren’t happy –“

He panicked, seeing Eddie’s eyes were wet.

“I just – I can’t – _please_ don’t marry her, at least without knowing that you have other options, okay? I – you have options, Eddie.”

“The only other option I want isn’t really an option at all,” Eddie answered, looking down at the ground.

It was like being punched in the gut. Eddie _was_ settling with Myra. He _was_ unhappy. He _was_ in love with someone else. But whoever that someone else was, it wasn’t Richie.

“Oh,” Richie whispered. He blinked back tears. “I’m just gonna go. I – good luck tomorrow, I guess. I – I’ll just – yeah.”

He didn’t wait for Eddie to respond before he turned on his heel and left the building, only letting the tears fall when he flung himself into his car.

_

Richie glanced at the clock. It was bright red in the darkness of the hotel room, and he let his head fall back onto the pillow. Eddie would be boarding a plane right about now, Myra at his side, suitcases packed for a five-day stay at some resort somewhere Richie hadn’t bothered to listen to.

He was debating turning his phone on, finally. It had been well over 24 hours since he’d fled the rehearsal dinner, booked a hotel room, and unplugged from the rest of the world. He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t watch the love of his life marry someone else. He figured, now that the ceremony was over and Ben and Bev had likely slept off their hangovers from the reception, he should give them a call just to reassure them that he was alive.

He turned his phone on and dialed Bev before he could see how many voicemails he had. She answered quickly, her voice hushed.

“Where the fuck are you?”

“Hotel,” he answered glumly. “Like ten minutes from the apartment.”

“You’re a fucking moron, Richie,” she said angrily. Richie sat up in bed. “You need to call Eddie right now.”

Richie frowned. “Pretty sure he’s on a plane to paradise right now, Bev.”

“Oh my God, you’re so useless. _Myra_ is on a plane right now. With _her sister_. Because Eddie _called off his fucking wedding_ and now his best friend isn’t even around to help him pick up the pieces!”

“I – What?”

“You heard me, asshole,” Beverly stated. “He’s at Bill’s right now. If –“

He thanked her and hung up, rushing out of the hotel room and to his car. He made it to Bill’s quickly, heart pounding when he saw Eddie’s car in the parking lot. The walk from his car to Bill’s front door was a blur, and he felt dizzy with nerves when he came face to face with Eddie.

“Hi,” he said, standing in the doorway awkwardly. Eddie was behind Bill, who was looking at him worriedly. “Uh.. Heard you didn’t get married.”

“Jesus Christ, Richie,” Bill muttered, before turning and leaving the room. Richie stepped inside and closed his eyes against the sudden vertigo.

“You would’ve known sooner if you hadn’t run away,” Eddie told him, frustrated. “I think there have been some misunderstandings between us.”

“Have there?” Richie asked, shaking his head as though it would make him less dizzy. He stared at a spot on the wall, except the single spot became many spots, and he closed his eyes against it.

“Rich?” Eddie asked, and suddenly his hand was on the small of Richie’s back, leading him to the couch. “Are you okay?”

“Um,” Richie said. He tried to calm himself down, push past any emotions and focus on what was happening physically, and then – “Oh. I haven’t eaten in over 24 hours. That could be an issue.”

“You haven’t eaten. In over 24 hours.”

“Oops?” He shrugged. “To be fair, I was in hiding and very sad.”

“Okay, put a pin in _that_ ,” Eddie said, shaking his head and standing up. He went to the kitchen and returned with a sandwich.

“Eddie, did you really go make yourself a sandwich just now? Are you really going to eat in front of a starving man?” He joked, then let his head fall back against the couch cushion when grinning made his head throb. Eddie shoved the sandwich in his mouth. He took a bite.

“Now,” Eddie said, sitting next to him and taking in a deep breath. “I’m going to talk and you’re going to eat your fucking sandwich, okay?”

Richie took a bite. “Okay.”

“I talked to Beverly,” Eddie started, putting a hand up when Richie’s eyes widened and he tried to sit up. “Stop! You’ll pass out, you absolute idiot!”

“Yeah,” Richie agreed, taking another bite. “The whole not-eating thing.”

Eddie huffed.

“Sorry.” Richie shrugged. “Again.”

“Anyway,” Eddie said, ignoring him. “I told Bev a bit of what you said at the rehearsal dinner because I was… confused? Confused is the best word for it. I thought – I thought you _knew_ , you know? And so it hurt that you were the one to say those things, and –“

“Wait,” Richie said, not moving this time. He swallowed the last of his sandwich and immediately wished he had another, but didn’t think it was the right moment to ask. “You thought I knew what?”

Eddie bit his lip and stared down at him. “Um… Can I finish, first?” He sounded hesitant, nervous, embarrassed. Richie nodded. “Um. Yeah, so Bev was – well, I told her that you said I had options, and that I told you the only option I wanted wasn’t… Available. Well, she didn’t understand what I meant so I started to think… Maybe _you_ didn’t understand either.”

Richie wished he had water.

“She asked me who I wanted to be with, if not Myra, which to me was crazy! Because I thought… I thought everybody knew. Had known. For like, a long time. Years. Lots of them. And I thought because nothing had ever happened… That it wasn’t an option. And so being told that you have options by the person who isn’t an option was… You know.”

Richie’s mouth opened, then shut. Eddie stared at him.

“I really don’t know,” Richie admitted. “I’m also probably really dehydrated and like, malnourished, though. You might be making total sense but I really just heard you say the word option like twelve times.”

Eddie let out a groan of frustration. Richie’s eyes closed.

_

When he opened his eyes again his feet were in Eddie’s lap and the TV was on. His head hurt, and when Eddie noticed he was awake he was handed a water bottle. He chugged it and fell back to sleep.

_

“Are you going to stay awake this time?”

Richie licked his dry lips.

“Okay, you’re going home and you’re going to shower and have an actual meal and then we are having a fucking conversation, Richie,” Eddie said, pulling him up by the arm and dragging him to the front door. He heard Bill call out a goodbye.

A few hours later he sat on his bed opposite Eddie, who had a look of determination on his face.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “Are you ready to actually listen to the words I’m saying?”

Richie frowned. “This feels like bullying.”

Ignoring him, Eddie, who seemingly had had enough inconveniences and disruptions, impatiently said, “I love you, and I called off the wedding because Beverly seems to think you love me, too.”

Richie gaped at him.

“Please stop making that face at me and say something,” Eddie said awkwardly, looking down at the comforter.

“You – _What?_ ”

“Yeah.”

“Dude, I was – I was literally planning on interrupting your wedding ceremony like, two days ago, what the fuck? You – _What?_ ”

Eddie laughed a little. “God, can you imagine Ma’s face if you did?”

“I imagined it frequently and in great detail.”

“Seriously, though. Thanks for not doing that. Although you could’ve said something like… sooner.”

“Apparently you could have, too!”

Eddie rolled his eyes as if that didn’t matter.

“Well, at least I got around to it eventually.”

“ _You_ got around to it?!”

“Yes?” Richie said. “Who was the one who pulled you from your rehearsal dinner to tell you about your options?”

“First of all, your speech about _options_ didn’t even make sense. Second of all, who’s the one who literally said both of our first _I love you_ ’s for us?”

“Okay, you have a point with that,” Richie conceded.

Eddie sighed, falling back onto the bed and looking over at Richie. Richie’s heart pounded in his chest. It didn’t feel real.

“Why are we still talking when you could be over here kissing me?”

Richie laughed, laying next to Eddie and resting a hand on his warm cheek. “I think we need to work on our timing. That seems to be our major-“

He was cut off by Eddie’s lips. He didn’t bother finishing his sentence; they had all the time in the world now.


	12. "are you pulling down mistletoe?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rated T for language

**“Are you- are you pulling down mistletoe?”**

“Yeah,” Eddie huffed, landing on his feet with a thud, sprig of mistletoe in hand. “Ben hung up way too much. I can’t tell if he’s just upping his chances of ending up under one with Bev or if he just wants every combination of losers to kiss. Either way. Too much.”

“Eds, there is no such thing as too much _love_ ,” Richie said, snagging the mistletoe from his hands. Eddie frowned. 

“It’s not _love_ , Richie,” he said, a hand on his hip. “It’s forcing intimacy between people who might not even want it!”

“Damn, Eds, who are you so desperate not to kiss?”

Eddie flushed. “Don’t call me Eds, you know I hate that.”

Richie ignored him. “Who are you avoiding forced intimacy with?”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “ _You_ , dick for brains.”

Richie gasped, a hand flying to his chest. “Eddie Spaghetti, I am hurt! Appalled! Simply broken-hearted.”

“Don’t call me Eddie Spaghetti, that’s even worse than Eds. And what Voice is that even supposed to be?”

“Leading lady from a black and white movie,” Richie answered. “Not good?”

“Can I have the mistletoe back, please?” Eddie asked, not answering. He held a hand out.

“C’mon, Eds,” Richie said. “It’s our first holiday away from home! Mistletoe is a tradition at holiday parties. Do you want to - you don’t want to ruin Christmas _and_ Hanukkah, do you?”

“Yes, because having ten less mistletoe in this studio apartment is going to _ruin Christmas and Hanukkah_.” Eddie reached out to grab the sprig from Richie but Richie was too quick, holding his hand up above his head where there was no way Eddie could reach it. “Richie!”

“Nope!” Richie said, backing up when Eddie stepped closer, a hand on his shoulder for balance as he tried to jump up to reach Richie’s hand. “You know, technically we’re both under the mistletoe right now.”

Eddie stepped back immediately, cheeks turning pink. He looked away. “What the fuck ever, Trashmouth.”

“But I get it,” Richie continued sadly, “you don’t want _forced intimacy_ with me. I’ll just have to go mend my wounded heart, my -”

“I don’t want _forced_ intimacy, you big dumb -” Eddie stopped, huffing. He crossed his arms over his chest. “You know I haven’t had my first kiss yet. I don’t want it to be because somebody… Like, because they have to, you know? For tradition. I want it to be because somebody _wants_ to kiss me.”

He was looking at the ground, Suddenly Richie’s beat up black Converse came into his line of sight and he could feel how close he stood.

“Kiss me,” Richie said quietly. They were two words Eddie had been waiting to hear from his best friend for years, but they didn’t feel like he thought they would. He never wanted them said out of pity.

“Rich, I _just_ said -”

“I’m not holding the mistletoe anymore.”

Eddie’s breath hitched. Slowly, he picked his head up, noticing on the way that both of Richie’s arms were at his side, mistletoe clutched in one hand. When his eyes reached Richie’s face he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. _This_ was what he’d imagined, over and over, when Richie said those two words.

“C’mon, Eds,” Richie murmured, his free hand coming up to cup Eddie’s hot cheek. His eyelids fluttered as Richie leaned closer. “Kiss me.”

“Don’t call me Eds,” he muttered, closing his eyes. He let out a small gasp when Richie’s lips touched his, and he pushed up on his toes to get closer. The kiss was soft and slow, and Eddie reached down to Richie’s hand, taking the mistletoe from his grasp and throwing it to the side, not caring where it landed. He laced their fingers instead.

“What was that for?” Richie asked, barely putting any space between them. 

Eddie smiled and put his free hand on the back of Richie’s neck, pulling him back in with a whispered, “We don’t need it.” 


	13. "i'm not going anywhere"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rated T for language, post chapter 2 fix-it

“I can’t sit still for more than a few hours or everything will get stiff and it makes the stitches hurt twice as much. Also I can’t fly, even on a shorter flight. Basically I’m stuck in Maine for the foreseeable future.”

“That’s rough,” Ben said with a sympathetic frown.

“Why don’t you find a nice airbnb in Bangor? That’s only, what, a half hour drive? And you’d be closer to better hospitals,” Beverly suggested.

“And you’ll be the fuck out of Derry!” Richie added with a fake grin. 

“If that’s not what you want, I can wait to leave -”

“Fuck no, you can’t,” Eddie said, interrupting Mike’s offer. “You should be the first one out of this fucking town. I’ll find an airbnb in Bangor and catch an Uber once I’m released.”

Bill frowned. “W-what about your wi-wi-wife? Couldn’t she take care of getting the house and picking you up?”

Eddie scoffed, staring down at the hospital blanket covering his lap. “We had a fight, so… I’m on my own for now. Honestly, I don’t know if I even want to go back to New York at all.”

“I have no idea why I live in Chicago,” Richie admitted with a small shrug.

“I have a giant and beautiful house and I’ve hated it for years because it’s empty,” Ben said softly. Beverly grabbed his hand.

“It’s like I was just coasting,” Eddie said, looking down at his lap. “I never felt in control of anything. Which, like, obviously my mother has a lot to do with it, but I also just… Let things happen to me. Myra wanted to date so I dated her. She wanted to get married so I married her. She wanted kids so I - I paid for the most expensive fertility doctors out there and they all told her the same thing, our only option was a surrogate but no, she refused to believe that, thinks somehow it would be _less her baby_ if somebody else had it. And of course it was all my fault. Which is fucking stupid, because if I literally never make any choices how can anything be my fault? I’m not doing anything!”

“Hey, bud,” Ben said softly, putting a hand on Eddie’s shoulder and slowly guiding him back to a lying position. “You’re gonna fuck up your stitches, dude.”

Eddie huffed but accepted it, crossing his arms over his chest.

“It’s just fucking stupid. And now that I remember everything about my mom… Like, fuck it, I knew she looked like her. I’m not fucking stupid. But Ma had just died and I… I didn’t remember I wasn’t sick. Suddenly I was alone in the world and I was sick so I needed help and - and Myra was just like her, you know? It didn’t have to be any specific illness or injury. Just _delicate_. A _weak system_. Stay away from fucking _everything_ , Eddie. Wear your coat or you’ll die of pneumonia, Eddie. Don’t play with your friends or you’ll break a bone and then bone fragments will travel up into your brain and kill you, Eddie. Don’t get near an x-ray machine, it’ll give you cancer and you’ll die, Eddie.”

Eddie sniffed, wiping his nose angrily. Everyone sat close around his hospital bed. Bev’s eyes were wet when she grabbed Eddie’s hand and squeezed.

“But she’s not like her, at the same time,” Eddie continued. “She doesn’t… She’s not doing it on purpose. That’s the difference. Ma was… Ma was the sick one. But even past that, that thing that made her keep me weak and delicate and sick for whatever fucking reason she had… Even more that that she wanted to control everything. I mean, you guys know, she yelled at every one of you, some of you on multiple occasions,” he paused, looking distinctively at Richie who opened his mouth to make an _I fucked your mom_ joke and stopped when Eddie glared at him. “She would do everything she could to keep me from you guys. She’d cry and scream and say I didn’t love her and that I was killing her. I always felt so guilty for like… Existing outside of her presence. Aside from that summer, I never really learned how to be my own person.

“I just want to make my own decisions and not be questioned about it. I want to figure out who I am when I’m not trying to please somebody else.”

“Fuck yeah, Eds,” Richie said, holding up a hand for a high-five.

“Don’t call me Eds.” He smiled, slapping Richie’s hand. 

“Are you okay with being alone in Bangor for so long, though?” Beverly asked, corners of her mouth twitching downward. “Not that you’re not capable, but you have some extensive injuries and it makes me nervous to think of you trying to take care of them yourself.”

“Th-th-there are home nursing ser-ser-services you could hire,” Bill suggested.

“I could stay with you,” Richie said quietly, almost hoping his voice wouldn’t be heard. Eddie turned to him with wide eyes. He looked at those, and not Bev’s, who were sympathetic. He could hear her voice in his head saying _Honey, don’t do this to yourself._

Fuck it. He’d always been a glutton for punishment.

“Seriously?” Eddie checked, hint of a grin forming on his face.

“Yeah, dude, a little bro vacation!”

Eddie grimaced. “Don’t call it that.”

“You’re real fuckin’ picky about names, Eds.”

“Don’t call me Eds.” Eddie sighed. “But really, you don’t have to do this. Or you can fuck off after like, a week. Don’t feel obligated and don’t put your life on hold for me.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Richie promised, then cleared his throat when he realized it sounded too sincere. “Where would I go? Chicago? I don’t give a fuck about Chicago. We’re both starting over, I guess.”

“Might as well do it together,” Ben said, then smiled. “Kind of like me and Bev.”

“Well I never wrote Eddie a poem and kept his signature for 27 years, so…”

Eddie frowned and despite his red cheeks said, “Why do _you_ get to be Ben?”

Richie looked at him. “Honestly? I shouldn’t be either of them. I can’t even decide which one is hotter. Ah, the perils of bisexuality.”

The room was quiet.

“Did you just come out by calling our friends hot?” Eddie asked, a hint of shock and awe in his voice.

Richie shrugged. “Guess so, Eduardo.”

“Jesus Christ, Richie, stop objectifying people. And also, no offense to Bev, but it’s clearly Ben.”

Richie’s jaw dropped. Eddie’s cheeks were bright red but his eyes were defiant. 

“Did _you_ just come out by calling _Ben_ hot?”

“You’re absolutely wrong, Ben,” Mike said. “They’re not like you and Bev. There’s… There’s nothing that compares to whatever the fuck this is.”

Eddie hid his face in his hands and Richie laughed with his friends, breathless.

“I’m tired now, everybody go home,” Eddie grumbled from behind his hands. He accepted hugs from everyone but when Richie leaned down for a hug he held him tighter, a little longer. “Not you. You stay.”

“Course,” he said, sitting in a vacant chair next to the bed. “I’m not going anywhere.”


	14. "close the door"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rated T for language, warning for major internalized homophobia and homophobic bullying including the use of slurs; mention of richie's bisexuality
> 
> this is super angsty without a happy ending. i may eventually write a part 2 when they reunite as adults but i'm not sure yet.

Richie was meandering. He let his hands drag along the tops of weeds as he walked slowly down the path, kicking rocks as he saw them. He didn’t have shit to do and decided an afternoon reading comics in the clubhouse could cure his boredom, but while he was making his way there, so close he could see the rock they placed on the hatch so they could easily find it, he heard noises behind him. Scuffling, shouting, loud and quick footsteps. Slower footsteps.

Just because Bowers was gone didn’t mean a new batch of bullies didn’t pop up as quickly as he fell.

Through the trees he saw a small figure running full speed toward him and he sprung into action, rushing toward the clubhouse and opening the hatch. When Eddie made it to the clearing his face was bright red, his hair sticking to his face and neck with sweat. Richie held a finger up to his lips, a silent shush, and Eddie nodded, skidding to a slower pace and practically falling into the clubhouse.

“There are stairs, you know,” Richie said helpfully, standing on the top step.

“Close the door, they’re fucking right behind me!”

Richie pulled the door shut and the clubhouse fell into darkness. They turned on some rigged lights, as Eddie collapsed onto the ground, arms and legs spread and panting.

“Where the fuck is he?” A voice asked above him. Eddie jolted into a sitting position, eyes wide.

“He’s gotta be hiding,” another said. “He’s little but he ain’t _that_ fast.”

“It’s not even worth it, man,” the first voice said. He was out of breath. Richie moved closer to Eddie, sitting next to him on the floor. Eddie scooted closer, pressing against Richie’s side and clutching his arm.

“Yeah it fuckin’ is,” the other boy argued. “Girly-boy was runnin’ his mouth all semester. I couldn’t do anything about it til now or I’d get kicked off the team but ain’t no team in summer.”

“I’m sure we’ll catch him another day, dude. Are we gonna spend our day chasing a fucking fairy?”

Eddie let go of Richie’s arm suddenly, shoving himself toward the wall of the clubhouse. Richie squinted at him in the dim light. He had his knees brought up to his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around them. His eyes were shut tight, his whole face pinched with it. The voices got farther away until they couldn’t hear them at all, and Richie kept watching Eddie, who hadn’t relaxed.

“They’re gone,” Richie said, breaking the silence. “Are you okay?”

Eddie sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, then did it again. He opened his eyes; they were wet with unshed tears.

“Dude, what happened?”

Eddie laughed without humor, looking away. “Nothing.”

Richie frowned. “Uh, clearly it’s not nothing, you just freaked out for no reason.”

“Leave me alone.”

He stood and walked to the back of the clubhouse, climbing into the hammock. He didn’t grab a comic like usual, just crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the dirt ceiling.

Richie scoffed at his behavior and stood as well, picking a comic from their selection and then going to the hammock. Over the two years that the losers had utilized the hammock, they’d come to a mutual agreement that rather than arguing about time limits and taking turns, they could both easily fit and each get double the time. It was a perfect system, even if it usually led to one of them sticking a socked foot in the other’s face.

Just as Richie picked his foot off the ground to remove his shoe, Eddie growled, “ _Don’t_.”

“What?”

“I said, _don’t_ ,” Eddie said angrily. “I’m using the fucking hammock right now. Stop being so touchy with me, I don’t want you all over me.”

Richie’s stomach plummeted. He was pretty positive he was about to throw up.

“Okay,” he said quietly. He turned and started walking to the hatch, afternoon of reading comics forgotten. “I’m gonna go.”

He barely made it to the first step before Eddie’s voice filled the clubhouse.

“I’m not fucking gay.”

Richie grabbed the railing of the stairs and squeezed until his knuckles were white.

“I never said you were, Eddie,” he answered as calmly as possible. The throwing up was still potentially on the table.

“It’s all anybody calls me. I’m a fag or a fairy or a girly-boy or _littlesissyqueerboy_.” He said it in one breath, one word, the way Bowers used to. It was the first mean name he’d ever been called, and Richie knew how much Eddie hated it.

“Okay but… _We_ don’t say that shit,” Richie said. “Those guys don’t fucking matter, man. The losers know you’re… That you’re straight.”

He stepped away from the stairs, unclenching his hand and ignoring the pain from clutching the wood.

Eddie was sitting on the edge of the hammock, head in his hands and elbows on his knees. Richie could see the tension through his entire body, like he was ready to snap and explode.

“They call us that, too.”

“But you’re other things before that. Fucking Bucky Beaver or Four Eyes or something about how you never shut up. But it’s the only thing they call me. It’s the only thing they’ve ever called me. It’s who I am. So don’t act like it’s the fucking same because it’s not. They call you gay because they’re trying to goad you; they call me gay because they think I actually am.”

“So? So fucking what if they think that? We’re all dealing with shit, we all get bullied! That’s why we’re fucking losers!”

Eddie rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest again. Richie thought about just screaming at the top of his lungs, something to get all the nervous tension out of his body because this was too much, this conversation was going in a dangerous direction and he just wanted to run. But he couldn’t leave Eddie. He never acted like this, they never actually argued, and his insides were turning inside out over the fact that the one time they do it’s about being gay. He’d imagined this. This conversation was headed toward his worst fucking nightmare, a train on broken tracks with no brakes, hurtling toward a cliff with nothing to soften the blow at the bottom, just rocks, sharp and unrelenting.

He opened his mouth, because he was an idiot. “Eds, we’re all losers. The whole point is that we don’t… judge. You know? Everybody’s an outcast for some reason or another. We could bully the fuck out of Bill for his stutter, or Ben for being fat, or Stan for being obsessed with birds, but we don’t. And I don’t think… If any of us… Uh.”

He swallowed thickly.

“If any of us had other reasons that… you know, that other people would judge them for… I don’t think the losers would do that. Right? We – if any of us were,” he blinked back the tears and cleared his throat, “gay, there wouldn’t – I mean, it wouldn’t be bad. Right?”

This was it. He was going to puke everywhere, he was going to sob, he was going to rip his fucking hair out at the roots.

“I just said I’m not fucking gay, Richie!” Eddie yelled, face bright red.

“That’s not – I’m not saying that!” He insisted, because he hadn’t been. “I’m saying, or like… Asking. The losers would be cool if one of us was gay, right? The answer is just supposed to be yes, Eddie!”

“Well it’s _not_!”

The fight in him drained immediately, and he blinked quickly to keep from crying. He wouldn’t fucking cry right now.

“It’s the same thing as a disease, like a – like, people just have to try to get better from it. Like when you get the flu or something and you have to cough up a bunch of stuff and blow your nose a million times. That stuff’s inside you and it’s gross and bad so you have to get it out and then you get better, so no, it wouldn’t be cool. It would – we’d have to help whoever it was.”

He stared at Eddie, who had stood and begun pacing. Richie was sure the words had come straight from his mother’s mouth, and he was sure that Sonia thought she was giving her son instructions on how to save himself, not anyone else.

“That’s such fucking _bullshit_ ,” he muttered, kicking the ground and watching minimal dirt sift into the air. “Is that what your fucking mommy told you? She’s full of shit, Eddie! Just like your fucking inhaler is full of shit! You can’t fucking cough up your gay feelings into a tissue and call it a goddamn day!”

“That’s not – it’s not literal! It’s a fucking metaphor!”

“Then tell me, Eddie, how do you get rid of it? Hmm?” His hands were shaking. “Because I’ve tried everything I can fucking think of and it’s _still here!_ ”

Eddie seemed to stop breathing, his brown eyes wide.

Richie felt like there was a buzzing beneath his skin, like this had been waiting to burst out of him.

“Church? Prayer? I tried that! Seventh grade, remember? I spent every fucking Wednesday at Bible study and I went early on Sunday and stayed late and I prayed every stupid day and nothing! Girls? I made out with Lisa Prewitt! _I fucking went down on Lisa Prewitt!_ And I loved it! But guess what? It didn’t make me want to suck a dick any less!”

He was screaming but he could barely hear himself over the blood rushing in his ears. There was no stopping the tears now, but it was okay because Eddie stood in the corner, shrinking in on himself. He was crying, too.

“Don’t tell me it’s the same as getting rid of the flu. You’re so fucking gullible. Your mom just doesn’t want you to be fucking gay.”

They stared at each other from across the clubhouse, both with tear tracks on their cheeks. He hated the sight of Eddie crying. He hated even more knowing he was the cause of it.

“This is a stupid argument,” Richie finally bit out, breaking their eye contact. “I didn’t – I wasn’t trying to be mean, just… I’m pretty sure I just lost my best friend so you’ll have to excuse me for being a little emotionally volatile.”

Eddie didn’t mock his SAT vocabulary like he usually did, instead just stayed standing in the corner, arms wrapped around himself like it was the only thing holding him together.

“Can you say something?” Richie said quietly.

Eddie cleared his throat. “I don’t know what to say.”

Richie laughed hollowly.

“I mean, you could start with whether you even want to be friends anymore.”

Eddie looked pained as he stepped out of the corner, only halfway across the room. Richie couldn’t look at him.

“I don’t know,” he answered in a quiet voice. Words had never sounded worse in Richie’s ears and he choked on a sob.

“Okay,” he said, trying to sound normal when it was clear he was crying. He sniffled, taking large strides toward the stairs. “I’m gonna go.”

Eddie didn’t stop him this time.

When he got home a few hours later, after finding a secluded spot in the barrens and crying everything out, he found his parents sitting at the kitchen table. They told him that within the month they would be living in California.

Richie, for the first time in his life, couldn’t wait to be a country away from Eddie.


	15. "secret santa is bullshit"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rated T for language

“I don’t really get why we can’t just get everyone a gift,” Richie said, looking down at the small slip of paper in his hands that read _Mike_. “What if we had things planned for certain people?”

Bill shrugged. “B-b-better luck next year?”

He huffed, stuffing the paper in his pocket. 

“Secret Santa is bullshit,” he muttered, but no one seemed to be in agreement with him.

“I feel bad for whoever you got, Richie,” Bev said with a snort. “You clearly don’t want to get them a gift.”

“Oh, fuck off, it’s not that,” he said petulantly. He glanced at Eddie, who was putting his own slip of paper into his fanny pack. “I just had something I was gonna give someone and now we’ve got this stupid rule that we each get one gift for one person. Can’t I just give another gift privately?”

“That’s not fair,” Stan insisted. ”Then someone gets two gifts and everyone else only gets one.”

Richie rolled his eyes, thinking of the mixtape he’d been working on for months, the comic book that had been almost impossible to find, both sitting inside a small red backpack that snapped closed in the front so it wouldn’t fall off your back.

Nobody was going to get Eddie anything _nearly_ as good. 

*

The losers sat in a circle, each with a gift in their lap. Richie held a wrapped jersey, with the name and number of Mike’s favorite professional football player printed on it. They started with Richie, some kind of karma for being “ _such a buzzkill_ ” before, so he handed the gift to Mike, who grinned widely.

“Ah, nice to know I’m responsible for Trashmouth’s Scrooge outburst,” he laughed. Richie huffed and told him to just _open it already, geez,_ and when he did Mike’s eyes widened. “Oh, seriously? You must’ve had to go all the way to Bangor to get this!”

Richie shrugged. Mike thanked him a few more times before giving the gift in his lap to Beverly. Beverly passed hers to Ben, who blushed scarlet and stammered through his thanks like he was Stuttering Bill. Then he handed a neatly wrapped present to Eddie, who opened it and grinned at the handmade decorated box inside, watching carefully as Ben showed him how to open the secret compartment, a perfect place to hide small things from his mom in plain sight.

Eddie passed his gift to Bill, who stuttered through a thanks for the assortment of his favorite candies. Bill’s gift unsurprisingly went to Stan, who laughed at the scribbled _Happy Hanukkah!_ on the wrapping paper. 

Richie knew Stan’s gift had to be for himself, so he held his hands out for the gift bag. He tossed tissue paper over his shoulder and pulled out a small pencil case. He looked up at Stanley, confused.

“So you know where your pencils are and you can stop asking to borrow mine.”

Richie laughed.

“Dude, open it, come on,” Stanley said, trying to sound agitated but mostly seeming impatient. Richie opened the case and whooped at a carton of his favorite cigarettes, two packs of gum, and a roll of tokens for the arcade.

“You’re encouraging his habit?” Eddie said shrilly.

Stan rolled his eyes. “It’s _Christmas_.”

“A-a-and Hanukkah,” Bill said helpfully. Stan snorted.

“Just because it’s Christmas and Hanukkah does not mean those stupid sticks aren’t still full of cancer!”

The argument devolved quickly into shouting things that weren’t really responses to anything, and within a minute the group was yelling about an entirely unrelated topic. Richie watched the scene with a smile on his face, still feeling a little down that he wouldn’t get to give Eddie the best Christmas gift ever.

*

December 26th had never been a day that Richie particularly enjoyed. He tended to overeat and overextend himself the day before, leaving him sleepy and with a stomachache, lounging around the house uselessly moaning to his parents, asking how they could let him do this to himself again.

“Dear,” his mom said, calling up the stairs. He didn’t bother to stand from his bed. “Make yourself presentable, and preferably less whiny; Eddie’s here.”

He sat up with a groan, using his fingers to comb his hair back and rub the sleep out of his eyes. He listened to Eddie’s steps on the stairs and was grinning the moment the other boy stepped into the room.

“Dude, it’s 3 in the afternoon.” Eddie had his hands behind his back. “You’re still in pajamas.”

“Yes,” Richie agreed, eyeing him warily. “What are you hiding behind your back?”

Eddie huffed, clearly not in the mood to take the bit any farther. He held up a video game, one that Richie had been after for Christmas but that his parents had regretfully told him they hadn’t been able to get because it had been sold out.

“Dude, you got it?” Richie asked, excited. “We talked about it on the phone yesterday, why didn’t you say –“

_“I_ didn’t get it,” Eddie said, sitting on the bed and looking at the wall across from them. “I needed to make sure your parents hadn’t gotten it for you before I brought it over.”

Richie’s brows furrowed. “Uh, you clearly got it, like, it’s in your hand right now…”

“I got it for _you_ , dumbass,” Eddie said with a put-upon sigh. “But it’s not a Christmas gift. It’s simply a friend giving a thing to another friend on the day after Christmas, so it doesn’t break Secret Santa rules.”

Richie couldn’t fight the smile creeping across his face.”You got me a contraband Christmas present, Eds.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “I _just_ said it’s not a Christmas present! But seriously, you can’t tell the others. I saved up like, six weeks of allowance for this thing and I definitely spent more on that than I did on Bill’s candy, so.”

Richie’s heart pounded in his chest at the idea of Eddie saving his allowance, putting his money away week by week and then getting to the store in time to make the purchase before it sold out. He knew his cheeks were red, and he looked at the game in his hands to avoid looking at Eddie, because he knew he’d probably look like a lost puppy ready to follow him to the ends of the earth.

“I got you a secret contraband Christmas present, too,” he said finally, when he was sure that when he spoke his voice wouldn’t crack with emotion.

“You don’t have to –“

“No, no, remember how pissy I was about Secret Santa?”

“I don’t think anyone’s gonna forget that anytime soon, Rich,” Eddie said with a smirk.

“Well,” Richie continued, “I was pissed because I already had the perfect gift for you.”

He went to his closet and pulled the backpack out.

“Uh, it has, like, look,” he put the backpack on the bed next to Eddie, demonstrating how the straps connected in front. “It’s like, dorky or whatever, but no worse than your fanny pack. But like, you were complaining that sometimes everything you needed didn’t fit in your fanny pack, and this is like, a small backpack so it’s the perfect in between size, like a purse for a girl except, like, you know…” he trailed off awkwardly, wishing the floor would swallow him whole.

“It’s really nice,” Eddie said, snapping and unsnapping the straps with a satisfied smile. “And it’s red!”

“Well yeah, I know your favorite color.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said softly.

“And there’s more, like, inside,” Richie said, when it became clear Eddie wasn’t going to open the backpack himself. He unzipped the bag and gasped as he caught sight of the comic sitting inside.

“Dude!” He yelled, looking up at Richie in excitement. “ _Dude!_ ”

“I know!” He said, ignoring the swooping in his stomach. “And there’s…”

Eddie reached into the bag and pulled the mixtape out, with its cover decorated in red and green with blue snowflakes, with the words “ _yule love these songs!_ ” written in small print at the bottom. Eddie snorted at the bad pun.

“I took a lot of time curating this one, Eds,” Richie said seriously. “But wait til you get home and don’t peek at the track listing before you listen. It’s a full effect type thing.”

“Okay,” Eddie said with a laugh. Richie grinned, laughing a little himself. He felt giddy, like he was floating a little. Eddie had given him a secret gift, explicitly against the rules of Secret Santa, behind the backs of their friends…

Almost like they weren’t quite the same… Like their relationship was different from the ones they had with their friends.

He didn’t let himself think on it too much, instead offering a round of the new game Eddie had given him. Eddie agreed and Richie began setting up the console, shaking his head at himself when the butterflies in his stomach wouldn’t go away. He tossed a controller to Eddie who caught it and smiled widely. He sat back next to him, aware of all the places they touched (their thighs pressed together, elbows knocking when they so much as breathed), and breathed in deep. As they got into the game, the _secret contraband Christmas gift_ Eddie had gotten him, yelling and shoving at each other in their usual fashion, Richie thought that maybe Secret Santa wasn’t so bad after all.


	16. eddie & richie take their daughter prom dress shopping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rated T for language

Richie is a great dad, and Eddie will go down fighting to prove it. He was great with Abby during her sleepless nights as a baby, her babble as a toddler, her skinned knees in elementary school, her friend drama in middle school.

But neither of them had been prepared for a teenage Abby.

They got as much advice from Beverly as they could, but Bev could only help so much when Abby decided after a month of going on about _how wonderful and great Micah is_ that on the _one_ day Eddie asked about him he was suddenly the worst monster to ever grace planet Earth. It was hard to keep up with teenage Abby. Even her music didn’t make sense, going from a happy pop song to angry rock music to a Broadway musical in the span of twenty minutes.

But it was _survivable_. She was 18 and about to head off to college (though not far; she’d never admit it to either of them, but she was scared to be too far away from her dads) with her best friend (“hey, that’s what me and Eds did!” “Yeah, Dad, but I’m not going to turn around and marry my childhood best friend.”).

But first, prom.

And forgive Richie if by the sixth boutique he was feeling a little grumpy, because Eddie had insisted on a _light breakfast_ so they could get lunch downtown, but now it was two in the afternoon, Abby was dress-less, Eddie was stressed, and Richie was _hungry_.

Survivable.

Abby had already shown them three dresses in the store they currently occupied. Richie genuinely was paying attention to each one, he just didn’t _get it._ He thought she looked beautiful in all of them, Eddie thought she looked beautiful in all of them, but then Abby would send a picture to fashion designer Aunt Bev and throw her phone down in disgust before trying on another dress. Richie was ready to call Bev and tell her to stop answering Abby’s texts.

“I think this blue washes me out,” Abby commented, staring in the mirror at the pale blue dress. She was frowning, which Richie wasn’t a fan of, because that meant yet another dress. Also, he didn’t like to see his daughter sad, blah blah blah.

He was _fucking hungry._

“I think you look very pretty,” Eddie replied.

“You’ve said that literally every time,” Abby said, rolling her eyes.

“Well, it’s been true every time,” Eddie huffed. “Would you like me to stop complimenting you?”

Abby huffed, too. “No.”

Eddie grinned triumphantly.

“I’m trying on the next one.”

She returned a few minutes later in a darker blue dress, which Richie actually… liked. More than the others. Maybe he was getting a hang of this ‘having a daughter’ thing after all.

“I like that one,” he said. Abby turned to look at him. She seemed to be considering him, so, with lunch on his mind, he switched things up a bit. “Yeah, it doesn’t, uh… Wash you out, the way the other one does.”

Her face fell.

“Oh my God,” Eddie muttered, dropping his head into his hands.

“What? It was meant to be a compliment!”

She turned on Eddie. “You said I looked pretty!”

Eddie gaped at her, then turned to glare at Richie.

“Okay, I’m not – Abby, I literally don’t even know what looking washed out _means_ , okay? But I am fucking hungry –“

“Language,” Eddie scolded absentmindedly.

“ – and this is the first dress that I liked more than the others, so. Improvisation. It’s my job.”

Abby looked between the two of them.

“Daddy, what do you think?”

“Yeah, _Daddy_ ,” Richie cooed jokingly, fluttering his eyebrows. Eddie pushed him away and Abby groaned.

“You guys are so fucking gross,” she told them.

“Language!” They both said. She rolled her eyes.

“Seriously,” she said to Eddie. “How is it?”

“I agree with your dad,” he told her. “You look beautiful. You’ve looked beautiful in all of them but you’d be beautiful in a paper bag. But Dad’s right, you’re extra pretty in this one.”

She bit her lip, looking at herself in the mirror.

“Can you take a picture to send to Aunt Bev?”

Richie fell sideways on his chair, groaning. Abby and Eddie ignored him. Once the picture had been sent, they waited a few minutes for Beverly to answer.

Abby’s face fell.

“Oh my God, she says it _washes me out,_ ” she cried, throwing her hands up in frustration. “I give up! I’m wearing a paper bag to prom!”

The dressing room door slammed shut behind her. Richie rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses, leaning into Eddie’s side. He hummed contently when Eddie pressed a comforting kiss to his temple. When Abby exited the dressing room, the pale blue dress was in her hand.

“I’m getting this one,” she told them, walking past them to the cashier. They stared after her, dumbfounded, before Eddie started to laugh.

“I’m _so_ fucking hungry,” Richie moaned.

“I didn’t think it would take this long!”

“Next time you suggest a light breakfast, I’m shoving that light breakfast up your fucking ass, dude –“

“Ew,” Abby said from behind them. “Are you guys being gross again?”

Without waiting for an answer, she strode past them and outside. When they followed her she huffed impatiently. “Come on, slowpokes! I’m hungry!”

Eddie cackled. Richie briefly considered divorce.

“At least she wasn’t one of those girls that went to prom every year of high school,” Eddie said lightly. “We could’ve had to do this _four times_.”

“Sounds like a fucking nightmare,” Richie answered grumpily.

“I mean, yeah,” Eddie conceded with a shrug. “It could have gone better.”

Richie stopped to glare at his husband, who was laughing.

“Come on slowpoke,” Eddie said, grinning. “I’m hungry!”


	17. zombie apocalypse AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rated M for graphic violence 
> 
> angst with a sort-of happy ending

It has become difficult, over the last ten years, to shock Eddie Kaspbrak.

He doesn’t remember the last time he was shocked by something. He can think of things that shocked him, sure. His mother lasting 76 days After, which was 16 more than he’d expected of her. Finding a boy bleeding in an alley on a supply run, tears on his face and begging for help, swearing _it wasn’t a bite, he’d been attacked, it was a knife wound_. Stanley and Patty announcing a pregnancy. But none of those things had happened within the last eight years.

After a while, in the After, things like bloody injuries, death, and violence lose their shock factor. When something happens so often, it’s hard to find the energy to even feel surprised, to feel scared. It’s just another day. And in the past few years, things have gotten better. Eddie’s heard whispers that this might be a new era entirely. After the After. He tries not to get his hopes up, but living in a community filled with people, with a small but sufficient system of government, has led him to believe that their may just be an after the After, after all.

His house has two bedrooms. One is his own, one is Richie’s. They have a small kitchen, a bathroom, a living space, and a garden in the front. It’s all they need. Eddie is a medic, working in the infirmary and helping Mike, the closest thing their community has to a real doctor. He had been a veterinarian, or at least on the way to becoming one, and he knew what to do to treat serious injuries. Nowadays the wounds tend to be much tamer than they had been in years past, but there are still the occasional bites. He doesn’t know that the bites will ever go away.

Richie is a scavenger, and Eddie hates it. Hates sleeping in the house by himself for two or three nights in a row every month when Richie is out. Hates that he doesn’t really sleep, not at all, because he’s too busy worrying his best friend is out there, dead, or injured, or bitten. He spends some of those nights with Mike and Bill, playing board games in their living room. Others he spends with Stan and Patty, playing with their daughter to give his mind a break from the overwhelming concern for Richie’s wellbeing.

Sometimes he visits Bev, who is also worrying, because Ben is a scavenger, too. And even though Beverly and Ben are together, their house only needing one bedroom for the two of them, Bev never questions why Eddie is just as upset about Richie’s absence as she is about Ben’s.

Richie is due home tomorrow and Eddie is running on little sleep, patching up a scraped knee on a toddler while Mike is doing a check-up on Stan and Patty’s daughter. Eddie jolts when the door is thrown open and slams into the wall. The little girl he’d been patching up screams and runs, and when Eddie turns to the door he doesn’t blame her. His eyes are wide as Ben and Bill carry Richie into the building, his lower left leg covered in blood.

“Rich?” He whispers, too quiet for anyone to hear. Mike has already sprung into motion, giving everyone orders and setting up a table for Richie. Eddie can’t move, only stares as Richie is placed on the table and the leg of his pants is cut away.

It’s a bite.

Eddie’s hands fly up to his mouth, trying to hold back a sob. It’s then Stan notices him and rushes over. Patty has their daughter in her arms, heading for the door.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Stan says calmly, but Eddie can see the panic in his eyes, too. They’ve been best friends their entire lives, the three of them. They’d survived so much together.

“It’s not,” he cries. “It’s a _bite_ , Stan!”

“Mike can amputate,” he answers. “It’s at his ankle, he can salvage a lot of the leg, I bet. Come on, let’s – let’s grab the night shift medic to come help Mike, and we’ll head to your house to wait.”

Eddie lets Stan lead him, head swimming. This is what shock feels like. _This_ is fear.

-

Mike works on Richie’s leg for seven hours. Richie takes another two to wake up. When he does, it’s the middle of the night and Eddie is there, sitting on the floor next to the couch in their living room where Richie has been set up. His eyes open blearily and he leans up before gasping and then yelling out in fear.

“Hey, Rich, it’s okay,” he says, grabbing at his shoulders, stopping him from moving too much. There’s an IV in his arm and Eddie checks to make sure it hasn’t been jostled. Richie is wide eyed, looking around nervously, glancing at the IV. Before he can ask, Eddie tells him. “You got bit on your leg. Mike had to – to amputate. But it’s not bad! Just the lower part, it’s –“

Richie is breathing heavily, shaking his head. Eddie cups his face in his hands, his own eyes tearing up.

“Please calm down,” he says softly, looking into Richie’s eyes. “Everything’s going to be okay. Mike did a great job and you know Ben will build you a great prosthetic –“

“My leg?” He whispers, horrified. Eddie chokes on a sob, nods his head. He pulls at the blanket covering him and cries when his bandaged stump is revealed. “Eddie? Eddie, how am I – how can I –“

“We’ll figure it out,” Eddie promises, pulling the blanket back over the leg. He runs a hand through Richie’s hair.

“My job is – I can’t – I can’t _run_ , Eddie, _Eds_ , Eddie, _please_ , I can’t do this, I can’t –“

“Yes, you can,” he says firmly, taking Richie’s face in his hands until their eyes meet. He leans up to sit on the edge of the couch next to Richie’s torso. “You will find something new to do once you’re healed up. You’re going to learn to run again, okay? I know you can.”

“Eddie, _please_ ,” he says, tears falling down his pale cheeks. “ _Please_ , I can’t. _My leg.”_

“I know,” Eddie murmurs, pushing their foreheads together. He runs his hands through Richie’s hair and feels him shiver. “Are you cold?”

Richie’s quiet for a moment. “No.”

Eddie bites his lip. He brushes his fingers through curls again.

“Eddie, what am I supposed to do?”

Eddie closes his eyes. “I don’t know,” he admits. “But I’ll be here with you the whole time.”

“Eds?”

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry,” Richie whispers into the small space between them.

Eddie frowns. “For what?”

“I’m – I got bit. I don’t have – I can’t – I’m useless now. How am I supposed to – We _protect_ each other, that’s what we’ve done for ten years, but I can’t – I can’t protect you anymore, Eds, you need someone –“

“Shut up,” Eddie stops him. “Shut up, okay? I don’t need anyone but you. You’re _not_ useless, you’re the same exact person, and I’m a medic and I’m going to take care of you. And you won’t be scavenging anymore so you’ll be taking care of me, too.”

“What?”

“You’ll be home so I won’t be – you know, anxious and… sleep deprived, and stuff.”

“Eddie, I can’t, I can’t _help_ you,” Richie says brokenly.

“I don’t care,” Eddie says stubbornly, tears clinging to his lashes. “I don’t care what you can and can’t do, okay? We have tons of friends to help us both. We’re not – I’m not – _Richie_ –“

“You should move in with someone else,” Richie says, looking away from Eddie’s eyes. “Maybe Bill and Mike’s. If something happens I can’t –“

“ _No_ ,” Eddie cries, his hands finding their way to the back of Richie’s neck. He hears Richie’s breath hitch. “I’m not going to let you… devalue yourself just because you – because you lost your leg, okay? I’m not leaving, and you’re not leaving. Just you and me, okay?”

“And Stan?”

Eddie shakes his head. “No, just you and me, Richie.” He rubs his hands down the back of Richie’s neck to his shoulders. He realizes Richie’s hand is clutching his shirt and he presses closer. “You and me. Right?”

Richie nods slightly. Eddie hears his sharp intake of breath when their noses brush.

“Holy fuck,” Richie mumbles, awed. “What does Mike have me on?”

The words take a moment to process for Eddie. “What?”

“I think I’m hallucinating. Or like, what’s that dreaming thing where you control your dreams?”

Eddie can feel each puff of breath from Richie’s lips hit his own. “Richie, what are you talking about?”

“I’m – I’m dreaming, that’s the only time you love me back, this is –“

Eddie presses their lips together, tears falling down his cheeks and whimpers escaping Richie’s throat.

When their lips part, Eddie doesn’t go far.

“I always love you back, stupid,” Eddie tells him quietly.

“I still can’t take care of you,” Richie says.

“I still love you,” Eddie responds, kissing him again. “And I’ll love you no matter what happens to either of us.”

“Okay,” Richie whispers, leaning back into the pillow behind his head. “Will you lay with me? I’m tired.”

Eddie watches him pull a pouty face, the most pathetic he can manage, and laughs softly. He climbs onto the couch next to Richie, careful not to jostle his IV and making sure Richie is still comfortable. They wiggle around until Richie’s head is on Eddie’s chest, and within minutes he’s asleep. He wipes the remnants of tears from under his own eyes and shifts until his own head is against the arm of the couch. Richie mumbles in his sleep but doesn’t wake, and Eddie sighs softly. Everything is only going to get harder, he knows it. Richie won’t be able to do his normal job, probably won’t be able to do much of _anything_ while recovering. So much of this life is being able to up and run at a moment’s notice. What are they going to do, if Richie can’t run?

He falls into a fitful sleep, Richie curled up next to him, and hopes he has more answers in the morning.

(He doesn’t.)


	18. accidental phone sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rated E

“Okay, I got 26.4, too, do you want to try it or should I?”

Eddie shrugged, even though Richie couldn’t see it through the phone. His laptop was open on his lap, MyMathLab staring back at him on one of the last problems of the night’s homework.

“I think I did the last wrong one,” Eddie replied. They always took turns entering their answers so if they messed up, only one of them would get it incorrect. It was absolutely saving their math grades.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” Richie said. Eddie waited a moment for Richie to enter their answer and see if they’d gotten the problem correct. After a moment, Richie yelled indignantly. “It’s doing the fucking thing again! It says the correct answer is 26.4, my answer exactly matches, and it’s saying I got it wrong!”

Eddie sighed. This happened at least twice on each homework assignment. Technology was such bullshit. “Let me try.”

The computer told him he got the correct answer. When he told Richie, he began cursing. Eddie laughed. “Calm down, dude, last one. I’ll go first so you don’t lower any more of your precious score.”

“Don’t make fun of me for wanting good grades, Edward,” Richie said haughtily. “Some of us are trying to keep our scholarships.”

“Some of us?” Eddie asked incredulously. “Both of us are on scholarships, dumbass. And making a B on one homework assignment out of the thirty we have this semester is not going to do much damage. Homework is 10% of our –“

“Eds, I gotta be honest, I stopped listening,” Richie interrupted. “Let’s finish so I can go jack off.”

“ _Richie!_ ” Eddie felt his cheeks heating up. He hated that, hated that even after almost 15 years of friendship Richie could still make him as red as a tomato. It hadn’t always been that way. When they were in their early teens, Eddie had mostly felt slight disgust at Richie’s sexual comments. As much as he wanted to, he didn’t see anything appealing about girls or boobs or vaginas and the fact that they seemed to be Richie’s favorite topic was generally an annoyance.

That had changed when Richie had made his first comment about fucking Bill’s dad instead of Eddie’s mom, which was how he’d decided to tell his friends he was bisexual. They’d been 16. Eddie still wasn’t interested in girls, but at least by that age he knew why. From that point on the blush appeared any time Richie mentioned sex, mostly because Eddie had begun to picture what Richie might look like; he never imagined another person with Richie, more just a blurry blob of a human (for his own sanity). Unless Richie had specified someone – not so much Eddie’s mom or Bill’s dad, his two favorites, more like one of the Losers or someone from school – he managed to keep his fantasizing brain under control with the mental images. But when he _did_ specify someone, Eddie didn’t blush. Didn’t feel the awkward tingly sensation is his hands, didn’t feel his stomach swoop. He felt that same annoyance from when he was young.

It became clear quickly that this feeling was jealousy. Because as much as Richie called Eddie cute cute _cute_ and pinched his cheeks, Richie had never made that kind of comment about him. He hated how aware he was that he was the only person in the Losers Club that Richie hadn’t joked about having sex with. Which – as much as he tried not to think about it – was stupid because he was so far up Richie’s ass in love with him that it wasn’t even funny. He shouldn’t want Richie to joke about having sex with Eddie when Eddie _actually wanted to have sex with Richie._ But he felt singled out in the worst way. Was he that childish to Richie? Too cute cute _cute_ , too much like a kid? Did he still imagine Eddie walking around in short shorts and a fanny pack? He knew Richie didn’t _actually_ think he was cute – it was just a bit, like a hundred others he had, but sometimes he wondered if Richie found him unattractive, to the point that he wouldn’t even joke about sex with Eddie.

What Eddie hated most was how often he thought about it. He hated that he knew all of the comments Richie had made to their friends over the years, hated that he knew which of Richie’s comments would make him blush and which would make him jealous. He wanted to just see Richie as a friend, because then it wouldn’t matter and Eddie’s brain could think about normal things, like their shared freshman algebra course or remembering which hallway the tutoring center was on.

“Did you get 9.8?”

Eddie blinked. As he’d been sitting in silence, contemplating Richie and his sex jokes, Richie had actually been doing their homework.

“Uh, yeah,” he said, glancing at his scratch paper.

“Did you even do it?” Richie asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Eddie repeated.

Richie snorted. “What have you been doing the last five minutes, watching porn?”

Eddie shut his eyes tightly. How could he have forgotten? The only type of sex joke Richie _did_ direct at him. He cleared his throat. “No, I’m _not_ watching porn.”

Even he could tell he sounded oddly defensive. He wasn’t lying! He wasn’t watching porn!

“That…” Richie paused, laughter in his voice. “That didn’t sound convincing, Eds.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Deflecting?”

“No!” Eddie exclaimed, feeling his cheeks get even hotter. He rested his forehead in his palm.

“Are you sure?” Richie asked, almost sounding… curious. “Because you’re definitely acting like you do when you’re lying. You’re a bad liar and you should stop trying. Were you seriously watching porn while we’re doing our homework?”

“I wasn’t!” Eddie claimed. “You would’ve been able to hear it over the phone!”

Richie paused like he was mulling it over. Eddie pushed his laptop off his lap, scooting back on his bed until his back was against the wall. When Richie spoke again, he sounded teasing. “So if you weren’t watching sex then you must have been thinking about it.”

Eddie choked. “I – no! I wasn’t!”

“Oh my god, you _were_!” Richie crowed. He was laughing and Eddie wanted to crawl under his covers and never come back out. “What were you thinkin’ about, then? What gets little Eds going?”

Eddie no longer wanted to crawl under his covers to hide. He wanted to die. _Little Eds_. He would die and then he would haunt Richie’s stupid ass.

“Why have we never had this conversation before? What kind of best friend am I that I don’t even know what gets my best friend off?”

“The normal kind,” Eddie said, his eyes still squeezed shut.

“No, this is important information. What do you search for when you visit PornHub? Do you have a favorite category?”

“Oh my god,” Eddie muttered, wondering if it were possible to be even more embarrassed than he was right then.

“Do you like just some classic anal? Or are you a kinky guy, going for like, spanking and bondage and shit?”

Eddie was wrong. He _could_ be more embarrassed. Richie continued talking as though Eddie wasn’t melting from the heat that was spreading from his cheeks down his chest.

“Nah, I think you’re a classic kinda guy. I don’t wanna call you vanilla, Eds, but. Yeah, vanilla. The real question is whether you’re a top or a bottom.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Eddie choked out. He hated the way his stomach clenched as Richie spoke. He could still hear the laughter in his voice. _He’s making fun of you_ , he reminded his dick.

“No, you’re definitely a bottom,” Richie decided, saying it as though he were absolutely sure. Eddie’s jaw dropped.

“ _Richie!_ ”

“What? Are you saying you’re not?” Richie asked, incredulous.

“I – I’m not saying _anything_ , asshole!”

Richie laughed. “So that’s a yes, then.”

“This is not a normal conversation,” Eddie stated, sure he’d never been as red as he was in his life. “Like, is this something you’ve thought about? Do you talk to Bill about whether he’s a bottom?”

“No of course not, Bill’s straight,” Richie said, as though it were obvious. “But he’d totally be a top.”

Eddie didn’t say anything.

“Is that the kind of guy you’re into, though?” Richie asked, and Eddie had to muffle a gasp. _He’s still making fun of you_ , he told his dick. “You wanna get fucked by Big Bill?”

_“No_ ,” Eddie answered, disgust in his voice. “He’s basically my brother, that’s gross.”

“Well if not Bill…” Richie trailed off. Eddie wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but he didn’t like it. “Maybe Mike’s more your type. Or Ben? Do you like ‘em broad and muscular, Eds?”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie said. “No, I don’t want to fuck them, either.”

“I’m not saying them specifically,” Richie said. “I’m saying it as a type, you know? So is it? Is that your type? I can picture it.”

Maybe Eddie was already dead, and this was Hell. “Please stop picturing me having sex.”

“I – yeah,” Richie conceded, almost sounding embarrassed. He picked right up again, though, so Eddie hardly noticed. “Come on, Eds, you gotta help me out here!”

“I really don’t,” Eddie retorted.

“Fine,” Richie said, and Eddie huffed out a breath of relief. “Let’s talk about what I like.”

_HE’S STILL MAKING FUN OF YOU_ , his mind yelled at his dick.

“I mean, I’m mostly a top but I don’t mind bottoming. I like a really nice ass, you know? Pretty eyes and a nice ass, those are my requirements. I love a real cutie,” Richie said casually.

Eddie’s dick had stopped listening to him entirely. Cutie? _Cutie_?

“Now you gotta tell me one,” Richie told him. “It’s only fair.”

Eddie bit his lip. What was a safe answer? “Tall. I like tall guys.”

“Hmm.” Richie’s voice was curious again. “Muscles?”

“Uh,” Eddie stared up at the ceiling, wondering when this was going to end. “No. More – um, you know. Lanky.”

He would swear he heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the phone. Oh god. Was that too much? Of course it was, everybody called Richie lanky all the time. Beverly was constantly sending him care packages and telling him to eat more because he was too lanky.

“Do you, uh,” the laughter was gone from Richie’s voice, but he still sounded conversational. “What about hair? You into blondes? Redheads?”

Eddie knew he couldn’t answer. What was he supposed to say? _I like dark hair with curls like a birds nest, Rich, know anyone like that?_ He turned it around on Richie. “No, it’s your turn. Do you like tall guys?”

Richie took a moment to answer. His tone was serious when he spoke. “No, I like shorter guys.”

Eddie was hardening with each word Richie spoke. Richie was just _talking_ about sex - in a vague way! - and it was already getting him going. This was – this was awful and terrible and wonderful and he wanted it to stop, to end, to keep going forever.

“Oh,” he answered, wincing at the breathlessness in his voice.

“Yeah, uh,” Richie’s voice was lower, Eddie was sure of it. He bit his lip. “I like ‘em smaller, ‘cause then I can – I like to… You know, I like – I like a guy under me that I can – uh – like, cover every inch of him.”

Eddie pressed the heel of his hand against his dick, biting back a whine. He could hear the nervousness in Richie’s voice, but there was something else, too, something Eddie thought might be lust. He wanted to push, to say something that Richie wouldn’t be able to misinterpret, to make his feelings known, but he couldn’t think of what to say. His mouth was dry, he couldn’t speak even if he knew the right words.

Luckily, Richie had always been the talker. “Do _you_ like that? ‘Cause you like tall guys, do you like ‘em –“

“Yeah,” Eddie interrupted, knowing how desperate he sounded. He squeezed himself through his shorts. “I like – I want somebody on top of me, you’re right, I’m – I’m a bottom, I want –“

“ _Fuck_ ,” Richie groaned. Eddie cut himself off with a whimper. Richie sounded even better than he’d imagined. “I seriously don’t think I’ve been this hard before, in my life.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Eddie choked out, reaching inside his underwear and sighing when he wrapped his hand around himself. His cock twitched in his hand when he heard a gasp through the phone. “Are you…”

“Yeah,” Richie answered. “I – fuck, Eds, I want you so bad, I’ve always –“

“ _Rich_ ,” Eddie whined, squeezing at the base so he wouldn’t come.

“What about you? You’re touching yourself?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, slowly moving his hand again, loosening his grip and stroking slowly. “I’m – um, pretending it’s you.”

“Oh my god,” Richie mumbled lowly. “You – you’re thinkin’ about my hands?”

“Mhm,” he murmured, beginning to move his hand faster. “Always do, always wish it was you, always want you to…”

“Want me to what?” Richie asked. Eddie choked on a gasp.

“Touch me,” he answered after a moment.

“Really?” Richie’s voice was awed and breathless.

“Yeah,” he said, thumbing over the head and crying out. “Always, Rich, wanted you so long –“

He listened as Richie began to moan louder, louder, and then a sharp cry before he let out a low sigh. He’d just made his best friend come.

“Oh my god,” Eddie groaned, feeling his stomach tighten as he stroked himself faster, letting the phone go and holding it to his ear with his shoulder. He reached down with his free hand and pressed a finger to the skin behind his balls, coming with a gasp.

He stroked himself through it, hearing Richie’s heavy breathing as he came back down.

“Hold fuck,” Richie muttered when their panting had subsided.

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed, glancing down at his now messy shirt with a frown. Then, unable to help it, he asked, “Did you mean it? When you said you – that you always…”

“Of course I did,” he said softly. Eddie opened his mouth to answer but Richie kept going. “You were my fucking gay awakening, are you kidding?”

“I – _what_?”

Richie huffed out a laugh. “I’ve been jerking it to you for years, Eds.”

The blush was back. “Um. Me too.”

“Can’t see why, but I’ll take it,” Richie said. “Not every day somebody hot as fuck admits something like that.”

He blushed even harder. He figured, if Richie kept saying things like that, maybe blushing all the time wasn’t so bad after all.


	19. "i'm only wearing this batman costume as a dare"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rated T for language

“I swear I’m wearing this Batman costume because of a dare,” Richie said, looking down at himself. 

“I’m not here to question your life choices, Richie,” Eddie replied, laughing. 

“I mean, I’m pretty sure it’s on the list of job requirements for best friends,” Richie answered.

“We’re not best friends,” Eddie said, frowning. “We’ve known each other for like, two months.”

“Which is two _years_ in college time,” Richie commented, his arms spreading out as if to show just how massive the amount of time was. One of them knocked a backpack off the desk behind him. “Besides, I’d ask you out now but I like to be friends first.”

“I - what?”

Richie just smiled widely, eyes barely visible in his stupid costume.

“Are you asking me out while dressed like fucking Batman?”

Richie paused. “Is it working?”

Eddie crossed his arms. “Does it _look_ like it’s working?”

“Honestly hard to tell sometimes,” Richie admitted, shrugging. “What if I promise to not be dressed as a superhero when we go out on our date?”

Eddie sighed. The professor walked into the room, glanced up at the students seated in the lecture hall, paused on Richie for a moment before shaking his head and pulling out his laptop. Richie snorted. As the professor put up his slideshow, Richie leaned over, pulling his best deep Batman voice.

“You never said if you’d go on that date or not.”

Eddie sighed again, rolling his eyes. He didn’t look up at Richie, focusing very intently on copying the notes down in his notebook. Richie kept staring at him, grinning at the twitch of lips, the smile fighting to make itself appear on Eddie’s face.

“Shut up,” he said, blushing red. Then, “Fine, Batman. You have my number.”


	20. if this is a game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rated E

Eddie wasn’t sure if he would consider this thing with Richie a _game_ , per se, but it was fucking fun whatever it was. The flirting, the lingering touches, the eye contact.

The ‘accidentally’ dropping towels while dripping wet, naked, and hard.

(If it _was_ a game, Richie sure as fuck wasn’t playing fairly.)

So Eddie decided, to get back at Richie for the way he’d run headfirst into a closed door at the sight of his dick, he would ‘ _accidentally_ ’ leave his door open right around the time Richie was expected to get home from his day at the radio station.

There were a lot of pluses to being roommates with the best friend you’ve been in love with since forever, but one of the biggest was that you could learn his schedule down to the minute in order to be _just_ hard enough when he walked in. _Just_ turned on enough to not be embarrassed at being seen splayed out on the bed, hand around his dick, eyes blown wide and light sheen of sweat on his forehead.

(Or so he imagined.)

So when the time came, he got himself ready, laying out a towel on his bed (he wasn’t a fucking heathen; he might be in love with Richie but nothing on earth could convince him that come on his bedsheets wasn’t the grossest thing ever) and getting out his lube. He started slow – he had about five minutes or so before Richie was due to walk in, another two for him to stop in the bathroom, maybe grab a swig of water. And then he’d start yelling Eddie’s name, probably in a stupid Voice that Eddie wouldn’t be able to place (a lie. As they’d gotten older, Richie’s Voices had gotten better and better. They weren’t all just weird variations of the British Guy anymore, but Eddie would die before he admitted it). When Eddie wouldn’t answer, he’d wander down the hallway to Eddie’s room, see the door half-open, and announce himself as he threw himself bodily into the door.

(Or so he assumed.)

Eddie wasn’t sure what would happen after that, if the game would end and Richie would jump him (the preferable option), or if Richie would try to hide his eyes, try to turn and leave the room, apologizing. If he did (Eddie hoped he wouldn’t), he’d better at least run into the wall. It was what he deserved after the towel incident.

Eddie’s eyes widened and his hand tightened on his cock when he heard the sound of the front door opening. He closed his eyes quickly, sliding his hand faster along his length, trying to lose himself in the feeling instead of letting the nerves settle in his stomach. He certainly didn’t want to start going soft. That would be counterproductive.

The time passed slowly, but Eddie did what he could to focus on the drag of his hand against his hot skin instead of the sound of Richie moving about the apartment. His breathing was starting to speed up, and he let go of his cock, holding back a whine with his teeth dug into his lip, to grab the lube. He squirted a bit more onto his hand before squeezing himself at the base, releasing a long breath at the sensation.

“ _Fuck_.”

Eddie turned his head.

Richie stood in the doorway, eyes wide and one hand frozen on the doorknob. He was staring directly at Eddie’s dick, and Eddie felt himself turning red all the way down his chest. It was terrifying to be stared at so openly, but thrilling at the same time.

“Sorry,” he said softly, though he didn’t let go of himself. Richie’s eyes slid up his naked body slowly until their eyes met. Eddie bit back a grin when he saw Richie’s red cheeks, his open mouth, his dilated pupils.

“Don’t be,” Richie choked out, hardly moving.

Eddie finally let go of himself. “Sorry,” he repeated, smiling a little. “I’ll stop.”

He could hear Richie’s breath hitch from across the room. “Please don’t stop. Never fucking stop. Oh my God, what the _fuck_ , Eds, what the fuck, I can’t – I don’t – You’re –“

Eddie was so hard it hurt.

“Um,” he said, watching Richie who seemed to be having an internal crisis decided what to do next. His eyes had drifted back down to Eddie’s cock, red and hard against his stomach. Eddie gestured to himself. “Is it okay if I…?”

Richie swallowed thickly. Eddie watched his Adam’s apple bob with fascination, thinking about how badly he wanted to bite that neck, to leave marks and let everyone know who Richie belonged to.

“ _Oh my God_ ,” Richie murmured without actually answering, though Eddie took it as a go-ahead anyway. He wrapped his hand around himself again and began a slow stroke, his breath hitching as he focused on the head. He heard Richie whisper something to himself but he couldn’t make it out. He had closed his eyes without realizing so he opened them again, looking back to Richie who was palming himself through his jeans.

“Hey, Rich?”

Richie let out a strangled sound.

“You can help, if you want.”

Richie was on his bed in moments, but instead of going for Eddie’s dick he smashed their lips together, harder than he meant to but Eddie didn’t care. He moaned at the taste of Richie’s tongue in his mouth, and brought his clean hand up to run through Richie’s messy curls.

“Holy fuck, what the fuck,” Richie muttered against Eddie’s throat, groaning when Eddie unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, helping kick them off and onto the floor. He groaned again when Eddie palmed him through his underwear, his forehead falling to Eddie’s shoulder. “Not gonna last, Eds, what are you fucking – How are you _real_ , what the fuck –“

“You talk a lot,” Eddie commented breathlessly, and then he gasped as his cock was engulfed in Richie’s big, warm hand.

“Yeah,” Richie agreed, and Eddie laughed a little, though it was cut off quickly when Richie did something with his fingers over his head that made him shiver.

“I’m gonna come,” he warned, feeling the muscles in his stomach tighten. Richie connected their lips again for a moment, before pulling back so their breath mingled and opening his eyes. Eddie could feel the frames of his glasses against his own nose but he didn’t care; all he could see was the blue of Richie’s eyes, the way he was looking at him like Eddie was the best thing he’d ever seen.

Eddie knew the feeling. He decided in that moment that Richie was the best thing he’d ever seen, too.

“C’mon, baby,” Richie mumbled against his lips, and Eddie came with Richie’s hand around him, a moan pulled from his throat echoing through the room. He was hardly aware of Richie’s hand shoving his own away and yanking his underwear down to his knees. When he opened his eyes, he caught sight of Richie’s arm moving quickly between them, and then felt the warmth of Richie’s come on his stomach, the sound of his moans like music to Eddie’s ears.

When Richie rolled off of him, Eddie lifted his ass up to pull the towel out from beneath him to wipe both of them clean.

“You were prepared,” Richie commented breathlessly. Eddie looked at him with a grin. “Did you fucking _plan_ this?”

Eddie laughed at the shocked delight on Richie’s face.

“You dropped your towel! On purpose!”

Richie joined in the laughter. “Yeah, I did,” he admitted shamelessly.

“Fuck you,” Eddie said pleasantly, shoving Richie’s bare chest, vaguely wondering when he’d even taken his shirt off.

“Give me like, five minutes and you can,” Richie said with a smirk, and Eddie chuckled, rolling his eyes and unable to wipe the smile off his face.

(If this was a game, Eddie was absolutely positive he had just won.)


End file.
